Sylvia's Shadow
by Mikell
Summary: A mysteriously broken security camera. A strange girl... in the Lair? Will the guys solve the silent mystery who is Sylvia Rose, before it's too late? COMPLETE! : Look for PARADISE, coming soon.
1. Chapter 1 Security

Welcome to my second-ever fan-fiction! (the first is "Raphael's Wish", if you care to look it up.) :)

Dear readers, I apologize, for the delay in updating, and for re-posting my opening chapters with changes. I ended up re-writing the beginning chapters somewhat extensively. I was afraid this "post as I write it" thing wouldn't work for me, and it doesn't. Rewriting and revisions are a habit too deeply ingrained.

I also needed to change the summary as the story evolved differently than my original vision.

So I've completed the story, and I'll be posting a chapter or two a day (depending on the reviews- how anxious people are to see the next chapters) until I get them all up.

Thanks for reading. Please review!

Rejoicing in the day,  
-Mary

* * *

Chapter 1 -Security-

_She was running. Always running. Always ducking, always hiding. Danger lurked, she must always be ready to run, or __**he**__ would find her again. He had taken everything away from her. Hope of ever finding her way back to her family, security, her voice, nearly her very life. _

_No, he would never find her again. She would run, always run, silent and invisible as a shadow moving through the streets, unseen. She had escaped, she had earned her freedom. She intended to remain free._

***

"Donnie! DonnieDonnieDonnieDonnie! Yawannagosewer-skatin'wiffme?" Michelangelo's voice bounced off the walls of the lab, making Donatello's head ache.

"Not _now_, Mikey," he said, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. "One of the perimeter cameras is down again, and I've got to fix it."

"You mean those cameras you put up in the tunnel, so I can have videos of my mondo skating moves?" For once, Mikey's infectious grin wasn't quite enough to ease the pounding ache at the back of Donatello's skull.

"No, Mike, I mean those cameras I put in so we can see anyone who approaches too closely to the Lair. _Not_ so you can have tapes of yourself sewer-skating."

"Well, what's wrong with 'em?"

"Nothing's wrong with _all_ of them. Just the one. It keeps breaking. Last week a wire came loose. A couple days ago, water got into the casing, even though the whole wall's dry. Now it's out again, and I can't figure out why."

"Maybe you should call April, see if she can fix it," suggested Michelangelo.

"I should be able to handle it," grumbled Donatello, gathering some tools into a small duffle.

"Cool. Well, I'm gonna go ask Raph if he wants to see a movie."

"You do that, Mike." Donatello ushered his little brother out of his lab and closed his door carefully.

"Raph, yawannagoseeamoviewit'me?" He heard Michelangelo's voice echoing through the Lair behind him, and shook his head.

"Everything ok, Don?" Leonardo stepped out of the dojo as Donatello was heading for the exit. He glistened with sweat.

"Yeah, Leo, everything's fine. I'm just going out to fix that camera again."

"The same one as before?" Leo raised an eye-ridge. "Again? Do you want me to come along? I mean, it's right near the entrance to the subway, isn't it? Maybe you should have someone there to watch your back."

"Nah, it's ok, Leo," said Donatello. "You need to cool down from your workout, and you'll want a shower. It won't take me long to fix it. I might even take it down and bring it back here."

"Ok, if you're sure…"

"Mikey, I swear this time it's the end. I'm gonna tear your _shell_ off!" roared Raphael from his upstairs sanctuary.

"Eeeeep! Leo, help, Raph's tryin' to kill me!" squealed Michelangelo, flying down the stairs to cower behind Leonardo. "I didn't do nuthin', just woke him up…"

"I'm positive," said Don. He closed the door firmly behind him. Another high squeal pierced the door. He shook his head. That Mikey. When would he learn not to mess with volcano-tempered Raphael's naptime? He hurried down the tunnel, anxious to avoid getting caught up in yet another hurricane of brotherly revenge.

Before long, he reached the junction. He reached up and carefully loosened the screws that mounted the camera to the brick. It was well camouflaged, hidden in a shadow where the tunnel wall had cracked. The tiny camera was nearly impossible to see against the dark background of the broken wall. It was a perfect spot, giving a full view of the tunnel leading toward their home, if only the camera would keep working.

Donatello sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck where it met his carapace. His head was pounding, the dull ache reaching in tendrils up the back of his skull. It had taken him weeks to scavenge and assemble the parts for this security system. Now, when it was finally all in place and he should be able to relax, this one camera kept breaking. Donatello couldn't understand why.

Lifting the camera down, he frowned. He couldn't see any external reason for the camera to have stopped working. There were no cracks, no dents or scratches marred the case. He turned it over in his hands, searching for any signs of damage or condensation from the damp sewers. The casing was perfectly dry. There was no reason, absolutely no reason at all, for the malfunction.

***

_She watched the purple-masked turtle, shrinking deeper into the shadow of the hole in the tunnel wall that hid her. She could see him clearly, but he could not see her. She was one with the shadow, wrapping the darkness around her like a cloak. She held herself absolutely still, knowing the turtle's senses were far more precise than any human's, and the slightest movement or rustle of cloth against brick could give her away. _

_She watched him fiddle with the camera. Her eyes widened as he reached up to loosen the screws. He was strong, his muscles rippling under his green skin. She shivered ever so slightly. _**He**_ was strong, too. But she'd never seen _**his**_ hands handle anything so delicately. _

_She closed her eyes, and gathered her focus. Tentatively, she reached out, calming, soothing, barely touching the edges of his mind. "It's just a camera," her thoughts whispered. "Way out here, in a tunnel no one really uses anyway. We don't need security so far from home… it can wait…There's plenty of time…"_

***

Donatello rubbed his hand over his neck again. He could see nothing wrong with the camera, nothing at all. He sighed in irritation, reaching for his tool bag.

_I've forgotten the tool I needed to fix this. _The thought drifted through his mind. He rustled through the tool-bag, searching. He pulled out one specialized little wrench, and stared at it, turning it over in his hand. Why had he even brought this? He felt distracted, tired. Why was he putting so much effort into one stupid little camera, anyway? This tunnel junction was the furthest from the Lair. Leo was right, no one but the occasional hobo would ever wander down the subway tunnel far enough to find the entrance to the sewers. He could fix it another day; there was plenty of time.

Donatello slipped the camera into the duffel, and stood up, stretching. His head suddenly felt better, clearer. He whistled softly as he strode off down the tunnel. Maybe he'd offer to go sewer-skating with Michelangelo after all.

***

_She watched him go, letting out a sigh of barely-contained frustration. That tool, that last one he'd pulled out… He'd almost set it down. She hadn't counted on his emotional attachment to his tools, which fought her suggestions of distraction. She shook her head in annoyance. She _needed_ that tool. But how to get it?_

_She slipped out of the crack. Staying close to the wall, but not so close as to brush it with the fabric of her clothes, she followed Donatello. She had to find out where his den was, where he kept the tools she so desperately needed. She only hoped she'd be able to slip in and out, unnoticed, silent and unobtrusive as the shadows which hid her._

_***_

Donatello headed back to the Lair, hardly feeling the weight of the bag in his hand. He hadn't been sewer-skating in months. He'd been too busy rigging new security systems around their Lair. Security was an increasing necessity. All four turtles had become quite attached to their latest Lair. There was room to move here, and space enough for them to each have their own rooms.

Donatello even claimed one area as a separate laboratory and hospital room for the rare occasions when one of them was seriously injured. He'd already acquired a steel examination table, sturdy enough to hold the weight of a full-grown turtle, and padded with specialized cushioning covered in heavy plastic upholstery which could be wiped clean. He'd collected an impressive array of first aid materials and medical supplies.

Fortunately, he hadn't needed to use his hospital equipment yet. It wasn't all that easy to sneak up on a ninja, so they weren't often injured. Sneaking up on a ninja… Don stopped short, and with a few steps, melted into the shadows of the tunnel. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the distinct feeling of being watched. His dark eyes scanned the tunnel behind him. Not so much as the rustle of the cockroaches could be heard. Don's eyes narrowed. He could have sworn… He shook off the lingering doubt. He'd been working too hard, that's all. He turned and strode down the tunnel toward the Lair.

***


	2. Chapter 2 What Could Go Wrong?

Chapter 2 -What Could Go Wrong?-

_Last night's failed attempt left her feeling frustrated, but now she had more urgent matters to attend to. She wandered down the alley, thinking vaguely of searching a dumpster for food. Her stomach turned over at the thought. Only a year ago, she'd dined every evening in one of the best night-clubs in town. Now she was invisible, wandering the streets, scraping by day by day, just to stay alive._

_"Hey, Sylvia!" She turned, startled. White teeth flashed, and she returned the smile, her heartbeat slowing to normal. Jeremy straightened from behind the cardboard box. He came to her, his feet almost as silent as her own on the pavement. He was learning quickly. _

"_Sylvia, I found someplace we can get somethin' to sell, so we can eat. But I need you to help me. Come on." He caught her hand, dragging her down the alley._

_***_

"You don't think Don was acting kinda' weird last night?" Raphael crouched beside his brother on the rooftop, his eyes scanning the streets below. Leonardo didn't look at him.

"Well, he's been working pretty hard lately. I think sewer-skating was a great way for him to let off steam." The blue-masked turtle stood up, indicating his readiness to keep moving.

"Leo…"

"Raph, look at it this way. Donatello kept Michelangelo occupied for almost three hours. Mike was worn out when they got back. He even went to bed last night before the Late, Late Show. Didn't you notice how much more focused he was in training this morning? And he didn't pull one prank all day today. Don did us both a favor. Don't question it, ok?"

"Whatever you say, 'Fearless Leader'." For once, Raphael was grinning. A distinct lack in Michelangelo's boundless, and often annoying, energy had put him in a good mood. Leonardo didn't bother answering. He got a running start, and cleared the gap between the rooftops effortlessly. "Show-off," muttered Raphael. He picked up the pace. Time to show 'Fearless' who the _real_ leader was. At least in a roof-top foot race.

_***_

_"Come _on_, Sylvia. See, I told you this would be easy. It's not like you've gotta hyp-o-tyze a human. It's just a dog. We can sell this stuff at the pawnshop. Ol' Tom likes you. He'll give you a good price, and we can buy food for a change, insteada havin' to steal it." _

_Sylvia shook her head at her young friend's logic, but her stomach rumbled, reminding her of their need. Jeremy's coat barely covered his bony wrists, and his cheeks had the sunken, hollow look of a child who hasn't had regular meals in a long while. With a sigh, she glanced around, checking the deserted street once more as he picked the lock on the wooden door. It gave way with a quiet _click_. _

_Sylvia heard the growl before she saw the dog's eyes glowing in the dim light from the alley. "Easy there, big fella," her thoughts whispered. "We're friends." The dog whined softly, and came closer, uncertain. "That's it, boy. Come on…" _

_She imagined a gentle scratching sensation behind her own ears. The dog's tongue lolled out, and he sat down, leaning his huge head against her leg. She carefully rubbed his ears. _

_"Wow," Jeremy breathed, his eyes wide as saucers. "Sylvia, you are somethin' else, you know. You really are amazin'. Like, you should be on Saturday Night Live or somethin'." Sylvia shook her head sadly. "I know you don't like stealin', Syl, but we gotta eat. Hang on, I'll get the case open, and we can clean this place out."_

_***_

"Mikey, slow down! Donatello was beginning to regret saying he'd patrol with his youngest brother.

"Aww, come on, Don. Race ya to the office building on 3rd and West! Wooooo-hoo!" Michelangelo raced ahead, leaping to the next roof top.

"Hey, Michelangelo, wait a minute…" called Don. He didn't have to say it twice. Michelangelo had stopped on the edge of the building. He ducked down, and was peering over the edge, the race forgotten.

"Shhh. Dude, check this out," he whispered as Donatello knelt beside him.

"Uh-oh. Isn't that Brinkman's Jewelers?" asked Donatello, staring at the black square where a wooden side-door should have been firmly closed and locked for the night.

"Sure is. Looks like Brinkman's getting an unexpected visit," whispered Michelangelo. "Whatdaya say we check it out?"

"Mikey, wait, maybe we should call the guys…"

"Aw, come on, Don, we can handle it. Let's scope it out." Michelangelo was half-way down the fire escape before Donatello could get the shell-cell out of his belt.

"Wait…" It was too late. Michelangelo dropped to the ground and slipped, silent, over to the open door.

_***_

_Sylvia touched Jeremy's shoulder. He looked at her, and she shook her head vigorously. At her feet, the dog growled low in his throat. Jeremy glanced at the dog and swallowed hard. _

_"Ok, ok, I'll just get a few of the rings and stuff. Geesh." Sylvia nodded. The jeweler had to make a living too. She wasn't about to wipe out his entire stock. _

_Jeremy muttered to himself as he fiddled with the lock on the jewel case. "Doesn't make any sense… we could be rich…"_

_"Well, well, what's this? I don't think you two are from the cleaning service." The voice made them all start violently._

_The dog crouched, growling, confused by the sudden burst of emotions from the girl._

_"Sylvia, run!" shouted Jeremy, stuffing his precious lock-picks into one of his coat's numerous pockets. He grabbed her hand, pulling her deeper into the dark. Their escape route was blocked by a short, wide man. _

_Shadow hid his form, but Sylvia could see his shape outlined for a moment in the doorway. He was bulky, as if he were carrying a huge pack on his back, shaped rather like… she gasped, _a turtle shell_. Jeremy pulled her through the store, dodging around the counters. "Sylvia, do your thing. You know… distract him. So we can get outta here," hissed Jeremy. _

_Sylvia nodded, gathering her focus. It's a big dog, she projected. Big and angry. And the kids were just fooling around… they didn't steal anything… you don't need to bother with them… watch out for the dog…_

_Michelangelo backed away from the German Shepherd. He'd always liked animals, but this dog had some mondo teeth! As if to emphasize the point, the dog snarled, showing them in all their glory._

_"Nice doggy," squeaked Michelangelo._

_***_

"Leo, look!" Raphael stopped short, skidding to a halt. He nearly fell as he doubled back to glare down into the alley below. A woman's shriek cut clearly through the night air.

Leonardo nearly crashed into his brother. "Raph! A little warning next time you change directions, huh?" he grumbled. Raphael didn't answer. Leonardo looked up. Raphael was gone. Leonardo sighed, and looked over the edge of the building. Sure enough, his keen eyes caught a glimmer off Raphael's sai as he moved through the shadows of the alley toward a group of black-clad warriors who stood in a loose circle around a young couple.

"Foot." Leonardo hissed the hated name, and cursed his brother's impetuous nature as he slipped down the fire escape, unnoticed by the terrified couple and the group of ninjas menacing them. _Don't bother waiting, Raph_, he thought as he dropped down behind a dumpster. _Don't stop and think that for once it might be nice to go into a battle with a plan or a strategy. _

"I t'ink you'd better leave dem alone," Raph's voice grated out of the dark. Leonardo almost smiled. You had to admire the guy's guts and his sense of drama. Raphael stood just outside the glow of the streetlight, letting the harsh shadows of the building fall across his face, at once hiding his mutant shape and adding an air of mystery and menace to his stature. Several of the closer Foot backed away.

"Mind your own business, _turtle_. This does not concern you," hissed one of the ninjas, obviously the leader, stepping forward. The woman hid her face in the man's shoulder. Leonardo heard a wretched, muffled sob from her. Anger burned in him. _Why_ did the Foot insist on attacking innocents? For a few dollars from their wallets? For the simple thrill of seeing their fear, enjoying their pain?

"I'm makin' it my business," snarled Raphael, twirling his sais. "Seein's how you're the ugliest guy here, why don't I deal with you first?" The leader attacked with a shout, and was down before Leonardo could blink. Raphael was a blur of green and red, kicking and slashing with the sais, but there were easily twenty Foot. They were threatening to overwhelm him by sheer numbers. Leonardo held back, letting Raph work some of his manically angry magic, before he saw his brother go down.

"Little help, Leo?" shouted Raphael from the ground.

"Turtles fight with honor!" cried Leonardo, descending on the fight like an avenging angel. The Foot ninjas were startled by the green whirlwind that flew at them, katanas blazing. The fight had seemed like an easy opportunity to get rid of one of the bothersome turtles. Now the odds had changed. One turtle could, perhaps, be overwhelmed, and taken down with but a few losses. Two, fighting side by side, were a worthy challenge. Raphael found his feet under him once again, and grinned, swinging around for a flying kick. With his brother by his side, what could go wrong?

***


	3. Chapter 3 Pursuit

Chapter 3 -Pursuit-

"_Sylvia, come on, we've gotta get outta here," hissed Jeremy, dragging Sylvia past Michelangelo, out the still-open door. Michelangelo didn't move. He was staring at the German Shepherd. _

_"N…nice doggy," whispered Michelangelo, his eyes on the dog's teeth, glinting in the dim light. "That's a nice doggy…" _

_"Wow, that was close," said Jeremy as they stepped into the alley. "That guy almost had us. Let's get outta here, Syl, before it wears off…"_

_"I don't think so." The voice came out of the shadows, calculating and cold. "What're you kids doing, breaking into jewelry stores, anyway? Didn't your folks teach you not to steal?"_

_"Run for it," yelled Jeremy, dragging Sylvia down the alley. There was no time to direct her emotions or change her focus. A startled shout and a yelp behind her made her wince. The first turtle must've dealt with the dog. Sylvia shivered. She hoped the turtle hadn't… but if the dog yelped, it couldn't be dead, right? Reaching out, she focused briefly. She sensed confusion, but not pain. She ran on, relieved. _

_"Come on, Sylvia!" Jeremy's desperate plea was breathless. She was a fast runner, but she was having trouble keeping up. He dragged her toward the subway._

_Good idea. We can lose them there, she thought. Focusing her energy, she summoned feelings of strength, of power, loaning her young friend speed. The footsteps behind them were closing in as they dashed down the subway stairs. _

_***_

Raphael knelt on the pavement, holding Leonardo's arm to try and stem the flow of blood leaking out, dripping down his plastron.

_Bastards,_ Raphael swore silently. _Dirty rotten cowardly Foot trick, throwing that shurikin as a calling card as they vanished into the night. They knew they couldn't win… so they struck as they ran away, the dirty cowards… _The gash on Leonardo's arm was the worst of his injuries, but Raphael knew the kick his brother had taken to the plastron probably meant he had cracked ribs as well.

"Ah, Leo, why da ya have to be the hero all da time, anyway?"

"Don't… know… what… you… mean." Leonardo's breathing was strong, but shallow.

"Come off it. You saw that shurikin comin', and ya shoved me outta the way. Nice goin' Fearless. Now we're stuck here. Yer bleedin', and the cops are comin'. Shell, I hope Donnie and Mike can get here before they do."

"They'll… come. They… always… come."

Raphael shook his head. "I hope so, bro. I sure hope so," he muttered.

***

_Jeremy vaulted the gate, hauling Sylvia along behind him. They dashed down the deserted platform to the empty tracks, putting the cement support columns between them and their pursuers. _

_A ringing sound echoed through the tunnel. Sylvia looked back over her shoulder, but she couldn't see the turtles. The columns hid them from her sight. Jeremy hustled down the short ladder and dropped to the tracks. Sylvia followed._

"_Donnie, Mike, are ya there? Dis is an emergency!" The disembodied Brooklyn accent bounced off the walls. Sylvia stumbled, startled. Jeremy pulled at her hand, forcing her to keep up. She heard his breath coming in short, gasping sobs. He didn't speak now, just dragged her along, down the subway tunnel._

_"What is it, Raph? We're kinda busy." Unbelievable. The guy chasing them was talking on his cell phone. He barely sounded out of breath. _

_"You gotta come now, Donnie. It's Leo. He's hurt. Come now."_

_"Oh shell. We'll be right there. Don out." _

_***_

"Why… didn't… you… wait…" whispered Leonardo. Raphael shook his head. As long as Leonardo could lecture, he knew his brother would be fine.

"If I waited for ya, to come up with a plan, Leo, nothin'd ever get done," Raphael told him, with only half the bitterness he usually managed.

The sirens that flushed the Foot were coming closer. The man and his wife were cowering against the fence, her sobs echoing through the alley. Raphael ignored them. They weren't hurt as far as he could see, just shaken up. He didn't know how much they'd been able to see of the actual fighting, but somehow he didn't think a five foot tall masked turtle would be a comforting sight at the moment.

"Come on, Leo, we've gotta get outta here, Bro." Raphael helped his dazed and bleeding brother to his feet. Leonardo coughed, and his face twisted with pain.

"You've got to be more careful," he wheezed.

"Not now, Leo. We've gotta get down to the tunnels before somebody sees us. I already called Donnie and Mike. Let's get the shell outta here."

"Language, Raphael."

Raphael rolled his eyes. Yep, Leo would be just fine. If he could just get him down a manhole before the cops showed up…

***

_Jeremy, it's ok. She projected calm, safety, home. _

_Jeremy stopped. Gasping sobs heaved his chest. _

"_Sylvia, what were those things?" he demanded, not expecting an answer. "They almost had us. It's a good thing you sic'd that dog on the one in the store. Man, did you hear him? 'Nice doggy'." Suddenly, Jeremy laughed. _

_Sylvia smiled. Jeremy was a resilient kid, quick to smile. He lifted her spirits. She projected happiness, and felt him move closer to her in the dark. She took his hand, and led him down the tunnel to their little den in one of the abandoned outlets. _

_She tugged at his hand, pulling him into the space. Jeremy walked over to the little bundle of blankets in the corner. "All this runnin' sure wears a guy out," he said, flopping down. "I'm sorry we didn't get none o' that jewelry, Sylvia. Maybe we can try another time, huh?" He yawned and stretched. Sylvia sighed. She knew he was a growing boy who needed to eat. Carefully, she reached up behind the odd jumble of machinery she'd attached to a gas line high on one wall. _

_Jeremy sat up, watching her. "I wish you wouldn't mess wit' the gas, Syl," he whispered. "What if ya, you know, blow it up or somethin'? We'd be blown sky-high. I guess we wouldn't be hungry anymore though…" _

_Sylvia found what she'd been searching for. Behind her additions to the city's pipes, a crack had formed a sort of shelf in the tunnel wall. She lifted the apple carefully out of hiding, and held it out to Jeremy._

"_What, for me?" hope glinted in the boy's hungry eyes, but he didn't reach for the food. "What about you? You gotta eat, too." _

_Sylvia shook her head, and gestured, holding the apple out to him again. Slowly, reluctantly, Jeremy took it. Sylvia gave him a wide smile as he bit into the juicy fruit. _

_Good, good… she projected, adding an image of Jeremy as an adult, tall and strong. Jeremy finished the food in record time. Even the core disappeared. He lay down, and was soon fast asleep. _

_Sylvia sat against the wall, listening. She could feel… something. Distant, but intense. Pain. Fear. Anger. Silently, using the shadows to conceal herself, she got to her feet, and slipped out of the den. She made her way down the tunnel, toward the junction where Donatello's camera kept breaking._

_***_

"How could this happen, Raphael?" Donatello scowled.

"Lay off, Don. It's bad enough I've got 'Fearless' lecturin' me," Raphael snarled.

"You ok, Leo?" Michelangelo's clear voice echoed off the tunnel walls. "We're almost home, Dude. You're gonna be ok, right?"

"Yeah… Mike… I'm… ok." Leonardo was sweating, leaning more heavily on Donatello as they made their way further into the sewers. He refused to allow Raphael to take his arm, so Donatello was carrying most of the burden of his weight.

"If you hadn't held back, this wouldn'ta happened, Leo!" snapped Raphael.

"Raph, now's not the time," said Donatello. "Save the arguing until I get him patched up, can't you?"

Raphael grunted and stalked ahead. Leonardo's eyes flashed, but he didn't try to argue. All his strength was taken up in getting his lungs to move air in and out of his aching chest.

"You want me to get Master Splinter to make ya some tea?" asked Michelangelo.

"Go ahead, Mike," said Donatello, knowing the hyper younger turtle needed to do something, anything, to help their oldest brother. Michelangelo was off down the tunnel before Donatello finished speaking. Raphael shook his head.

Donatello stumbled, eliciting a gasp of pain from Leonardo. Raphael turned, and in one smooth motion, caught Leonardo before he could fall to the tunnel floor.

"Let me help ya, 'Fearless'," he said gruffly, taking Leonardo's weight from Donatello. "Don needs ta get his first-aid stuff set up anyway." He stood tense, waiting for Leonardo to refuse, his muscles tight as violin strings.

Leonardo met Raphael's eyes. They locked gazes for nearly a full minute before the older turtle sighed and let his brother take some of the weight his shaking limbs could no longer carry. Raphael relaxed slightly as he helped his older brother down the tunnel toward home.

***


	4. Chapter 4 Dreams and Dissension

Chapter 4 -Dreams and Dissension-

_One of them was injured. The pain, fear, and anger grew stronger as she got closer. She could smell the sharp scent of blood mixing with sweat. She held back, following them from a safe distance. The arguing covered any sound she might have made. _

_Before long, they came to a seal. The purple-banded turtle moved a loose piece of concrete, revealing a number pad. She watched as he typed a simple code, and the seal slid open. Warmth escaped out into the tunnel, and with it, an odor… she involuntarily stepped forward… the scent of food wafted to her, and her stomach growled. For an instant, the purple-masked turtle scanned the shadowy tunnels behind them, but his eyes passed over her as if she were part of the wall she crouched against. He turned and went into the Lair with his brothers, sealing the door behind them._

_Sylvia breathed a sigh of relief. She knew now where they lived, and how to get the tools she needed. And food. Inside that Lair there was food. She turned and made her way back through the maze to where Jeremy slept soundly. _

_Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow, young friend, we will eat._

***

"Leo, will you hold still?" Donatello's exasperation with his oldest brother was growing. "I've got to stitch this, or you're going to have a huge scar."

"Why won't he just _listen_, Don?" Leonardo twitched in irritation. "He rushes into things. It's just luck that I caught that shurikin and not Raphael. It's a wonder he hasn't gotten himself killed."

"Leo, you know Raph jumps into things. That's why we've got his back," said Donatello patiently. "Now hold still a minute." He slipped the needle into the numbed flesh. Leonardo winced. Even the best medicine couldn't remove every trace of sensation.

"Are you saying I'm too hard on him?"

"I'm not saying anything, Leo." Donatello sighed. At least the cut was clean. With careful stitching, the torn muscle would heal completely within a week, and the scar would hardly show. "He's our brother. He's a pain sometimes, but so is Mikey. So are you. We've got to look out for each other, that's all."

Leonardo glanced at his engineer brother. He wondered if Don had somehow developed psychic abilities. He was sure Don couldn't have known about that moment, at the beginning of the battle, when he held back, letting Raph take the first onslaught. It hadn't been cowardice on his part, not at all. He just wanted Raphael to acknowledge, just once, that maybe jumping into a fight half-cocked was a bad idea. That maybe, just maybe, the walking volcano needed his brothers. Needed to be part of the team.

"You're right, Don," said Leonardo softly. "We're family. I'll apologize."

Donatello snorted. "_You're_ going to apologize? I thought Raph started this fight?"

"He did. But I shouldn't have waited so long to end it," said Leonardo quietly. "Thanks, Donatello. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Don looked up from tying a knot in his neat needle-work, his eye-ridges rising. "You'd bleed," he said simply.

Leonardo slid forward, off the table, chuckling. He grunted as his feet hit the floor, the smile fading into a grimace of pain.

"You've got to take it easy, Leonardo," said the purple-masked turtle. "You've got a crack in your plastron. It's gonna take some time to heal, even though it's not a bad one. And you've probably busted a couple ribs. I'm serious, Leo. You're gonna have to take it easy for a while."

"Ok, ok…" Leonardo made a face.

"That means no training for at least a week, and no patrols," lectured Donatello.

"A week? Come on, Don, I'll be fine in a couple days."

"A week." Donatello stood with his arms crossed over his plastron. "I mean it, Leo. I'm sure Master Splinter will agree. And I _know_ Raphael will help me enforce it."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

Leonardo's eyes narrowed. But the truth was, the great tactician knew when he was defeated. He turned and walked out of the lab, trying to hold on to some scrap of dignity. Donatello sighed, shaking his head. In his own way, Leonardo was just as stubborn and exasperating as Raphael.

***

_Burning, everything was burning. The flames were all around her, burning the very air out of the room. Inky, black smoke choked, her, filling her lungs, tearing the breath from her throat. The door was blocked, she could not get out. _

_She pulled at the timbers that had fallen, but they were too thick, piled too high. She couldn't budge them. The fire roared, gleeful, triumphant. She was trapped. Burning material fell, hitting her head, blistering her neck, down her shoulder and arm. She sucked in a breath, but there was no air, only the thick smoke and the fire's heat. It seared her throat, burning, scorching, stealing even her last scream…_

_Sylvia sat up, gasping for breath. Her head and neck were slick with sweat. She stared around the dark room in terror. She shivered, feeling the chill of the cool night air, her heartbeat slowing to something like normal as she regained her bearings. Unconsciously she reached up, tracing the edge of the scar. It spread from her collar bone half way down her arm. _

_Jeremy shifted in his sleep, a soft snore rising from the bundle of blankets. Sylvia smiled weakly and lay down again. Sleep would not come. She lay listening to the boy's snores and the distant rumbling of the subway trains racing through the tunnels._

_***_

Across town, above ground in a lavish office, Jon Dejorn's fingers drummed on the mahogany desktop. "You _said_ you'd get results. You _said_ you'd find her. I'm paying Saki top dollar to get the jobs done because you're _supposed_ to be the best."

"Do not insult the honor of the Foot, Mr. Dejorn," hissed the man clad in black, standing rather incongruously in Jon's office. "You know not that of which you speak."

"Whatever. Can you get the girl back, or not?"

"She will be found, and returned to you. There have been… complications. These minor errand of securing your building and finding the girl are not the Foot's only concern."

The ninja did not rub the bruise which made his side ache abominably. He was far too well trained for such a show of weakness. Silently, he cursed the hated turtles, especially the red-masked one. At least the one in blue had felt the blade of his shurikin before the clan had faded into the night. That one would have a scar to remember him by.

"I don't pay for complications," snarled Dejorn. "I pay for results. I want that girl back."

"You will have your results, Mr. Dejorn."

"I'd better. Or…" Dejorn's threat was cut off by the _thud_ of a throwing star striking his desk, squarely between his hands. It quivered there, throwing glints of light off its razor-sharp blades. Dejorn belatedly jerked his hands away. "What the _hell_ is wrong with you…" He looked up, but his angry tirade once again faded before it began. The ninja was gone.

***


	5. Chapter 5 Imprisonment

Chapter 5 -Imprisonment-

Leonardo was not taking his forced imprisonment well. Even the normally unquenchable Michelangelo had started avoiding him. When he wasn't meditating in his room, Leonardo was prowling around the Lair, scowling, or sitting on the couch, glaring at the television as if it were the Shredder in disguise. Every so often he would rub his hand over the spot where the Foot's flying kick had connected with his plastron. The thin crack was sealing nicely under Donatello's watchful care, but it took time. Too much time. _Sitting on my shell…_ Leonardo thought bitterly. _While the Foot roam the city, terrorizing innocent people._

Raphael was unusually quiet. He stayed in his room for the most part, avoiding Leonardo whenever he could. He was simmering with a mixture of smugness, anger, and guilt. He knew full well it was his fault Leonardo was injured and confined to the Lair. Leonardo's apology had only served to make him feel worse. His older brother had once again stolen the high road, and left Raphael feeling about six inches tall.

"_I'm sorry, Raph. I shouldn't have held back. You're my brother, and I should've covered you better."_ The older turtle had looked Raphael squarely in the eye while he delivered the apology, denying any hint of sarcasm or irony.

"_You didn't do nuthin' wrong Leo. I was doin' ok."_

_"No, Raphael, I mean it. I shouldn't have held back. We're a team. We're family. I should've backed you up."_

_"I don't need you to cover my shell, Leo. Don't worry about it,"_ Raphael had snapped. He hated it when Leonardo got all noble.

Leonardo had turned on his heal and walked away, denying Raphael even the satisfaction of an argument. Raphael stood, steaming, as the bamboo screen across Leonardo's door slid shut. With a growl, he stalked off to the dojo, to take out his frustration on the sand-filled punching bag.

_***_

_Sylvia stood up, stretching. It was evening now. Even though the small lamp she'd managed to rig up gave them their only light in the otherwise pitch-black tunnel, she knew what time it was by the ebb and flow of activity through the subway station a few blocks from her hiding place. The small den was beginning to feel more like home. _

_Oh, Mom, what would you think, if you could see me now? The thought brought a bitter half-smile to Sylvia's face. You thought I'd be a singer, make it big on Broadway, rub shoulders with the best people… What would you say if you could see your baby girl now, living in a sewer tunnel with a ragamuffin boy for a companion? And Daddy… Oh, Daddy, I'm so sorry. Tears filled her eyes, and she pushed away the image of her father's face. Her father had been so disappointed when she left for New York. He'd wanted her to go to engineering school, to use the "brilliant mind" nature endowed her with._

_Well, I'm using it now, Dad, she thought, adjusting the valve on her make-shift water-pipe heating system. _

_She'd cobbled it together using parts from an old water heater she'd found, and lengths of copper pipe. The actual burner was set up outside the tunnel, carefully hidden in a crack in the wall. Enough fresh air flowed into the tunnel to provide ventilation. The burner heated the water in the copper pipes, which in turn was pumped through a simple looped system. It snaked along the tunnel roof and into the den, blending perfectly with the myriad of the city-installed pipes and wires. _

_It was a good system, except when something went wrong, like the pump breaking down or the valve sticking. She needed tools. And she needed one tool in particular, a small, specialized wrench for making tiny adjustments to the pump. It wasn't something any of the local mom-and-pop type hardware stores carried. The only way to get a hold of one was to order it from the internet… Or steal one from a certain turtle's workshop._

_***_

"Raphael, focus," Splinter snapped. Raphael circled Donatello. Don saw rage flame up in Raphael's eyes, and nearly took a step back. Fortunately he saw the punch coming, and ducked, parrying with his bo. Raphael pulled back stinging fingers, a growl coming from deep in his throat.

"Sorry, Raph," said Don lightly, but he circled warily, watching for his brother's next onslaught. He feinted, distracting Raphael's attention, and swung the bo, trying to hook Raph's leg and bring him down. The red-masked turtle was big, but he was as quick on his feet as any ninja. He dodged Don's swipe, and swung around with an answering kick while the bo was at an awkward angle for defense.

Don grunted as Raph's foot connected with his plastron, driving out his breath. He fell back a step, at once absorbing and deflecting the blow, so that most of the force was spent as Raph's foot slid along the smooth plates of the front of his shell.

"Nice block, Donny," crowed Michelangelo, practicing his katas to one side. Raphael landed neatly and swung around to face Donatello, who now had his bo up and ready for defense. Raphael scowled his fury flaring.

"That will do, Raphael," said Splinter quietly, indicating the end of their sparring match. "You both did well. Donatello, your calm in battle serves you well. Raphael, your strength and courage are admirable qualities. When you keep your temper, you fight well and bring honor to your training, and to your family."

"Hai, Sensei."

"Thank you, Sensei."

The turtles bowed respectfully to their teacher. Leonardo sat, cross-legged on the mat, watching the match. The only outward sign of his ongoing frustration was the slight twitch in his hands when Donatello let his bo down for that instant.

_We'll have to work on that. He needs to be more aware of his defenses…_thought Leonardo. _As soon as this stupid "no training" order is lifted. _

His brothers filed past him out of the dojo. Splinter lingered, regarding his oldest son with something close to exasperation.

"Leonardo, it is time for the morning meal."

"I know, Sensei. I thought I would meditate for a while. Since I'm not allowed to train." Leonardo couldn't keep the frustration and bitterness out of his voice.

Splinter sighed. His claws made tiny scratching sounds on the mat as he made his way to Leonardo's side. His claws rested gently on Leonardo's shoulder. "My son. I know it is difficult for you to watch your brothers train. You must give your body time to heal. Sometimes even the mightiest river must give way to the stillness of the pool."

"I know, Sensei," said Leonardo, lowering his eyes. "I just… I hate sitting around the Lair while the others go out on patrols. I hate watching them train when I can't participate."

"You will rejoin your brothers for some light training tomorrow," said Splinter. Leonardo's eyes lit up. "In the meantime, you must nourish your healing body. Will you come to breakfast, my son?"

"Hai, Sensei," said Leonardo, getting to his feet perhaps more quickly than was wise. He felt a pull in his chest where the ribs were still knitting, and resolved to move more carefully. He gave Splinter a short bow. "Thank you, Sensei."

Splinter nodded his acknowledgement, and led the way out to the kitchen.

***

_Sylvia waited through the day. Jeremy woke up, and soon grew bored. "I'm going out, Syl. You wanna go?" She shook her head, with a vague smile. "Ok. Well, I'll see if I can get us somethin' to eat, ok?" She caught his hand as he was leaving. The message was as clear as if she'd spoken. 'Be careful.'_

_"Don't worry, Sylvia. I can look out for myself." The boy smiled, and was gone. _

_Sylvia sat with her back against the tunnel wall, resting. The lack of food had left her feeling tired and worn. She needed to conserve her energy. _

_Evening fell, and still Jeremy hadn't returned, but Sylvia wasn't worried. Jeremy'd been living on the streets most of his life. He really could take care of himself. He sometimes disappeared for a couple days at a time, almost always bringing back groceries, blankets, or other supplies he'd managed to acquisition in his travels. Without Jeremy, Sylvia might not have survived this long._

_This time, she was glad the boy had gone on one of his foraging trips. What she would do tonight, she had to do alone. She leaned back against the tunnel wall, breathing deeply. One with the shadows. Silent in the darkness. Invisible. Inaudible. Undetected. Unseen._

***

"Sorry, Leonardo. I know Master Splinter said you could start training again tomorrow, but I really think you shouldn't go out on patrols just yet," said Donatello. Leonardo stood with his arms crossed across his plastron, hiding the nearly-healed crack, and glared at his younger brother.

"I'm fine, Don. I'll just stick to the rooftops. I won't get into any fights."

"I don't think you should try jumping rooftops yet, either," Donatello stood between his older brother and the door, stubbornly blocking his path. Leonardo opened his mouth to speak again, but Splinter's voice cracked through the Lair.

"Leonardo!" Leonardo turned on his heel, an angry response dying before it could leave his mouth.

"Hai, Sensei." he bowed a little stiffly.

"Sorry, Leo," whispered Donatello. Leonardo ignored him, stalking off to his room. Raphael and Michelangelo came down the stairs.

"Ya ready ta go, Don?" asked Raphael. Donatello looked at Splinter. The old rat raised one eyebrow. He turned and went back into his room.

Donatello sighed. "Yeah, let's go, guys." The three filed out of the Lair, and headed out into the night.

***

_Sylvia knew the turtles had left their home. She'd sensed them in the tunnels, their essences faint, far away, and moving further away. Slowly, she got to her feet, and made her way down the tunnels, following the remembered twists and turns until she once again faced the seal that led to their home. _

_She crouched in the shadows for a long time, but could sense only silence. Cautiously, she approached the door. She moved the piece of concrete, and pushed the buttons. The seal opened, and she smiled in satisfaction. This was almost too easy. Sylvia slipped through the partially open door, careful not to close it completely. She was in._

_***_


	6. Chapter 6 Invasion

Chapter 6 -Invasion-

Leonardo sat cross-legged on the mat in his room, a single candle burning in a holder on the floor in front of him. His meditation was deep and focused. He allowed the ebb and flow of the Lair, the peace that filled his home now that his brothers had gone out, to surround him. Healing traveled in with his breath, and pain and damage were released as he exhaled. He gathered his energy, focusing on his mending body.

In… out… Focus. Sensei's reassuring presence. Michelangelo's bright, cheerful smile. Raphael's courage and strength in battle. Don's careful healing touch… As his mind passed over each of his family members in turn, he reached out to them, brushing the edges of their minds, one by one. Peace, tranquility, security.

An image of a still pool filled his mind. The crystal clear depths sparkled, the surface calm. Deep, and quiet. Leonardo visualized healing energies flowing into the pool that was his body. A river of healing, flowing over him, speeding the healing of his ribs and plastron. A ripple disturbed the surface of the pool… Leonardo frowned, working to still the image. Something… something wasn't right.

***

_She moved silently into the main area, cautious, sniffing the air like a doe coming into the open. The Lair was quiet, still. Not a living thing stirred as she slipped through the main room._

_She scanned the place, searching for her target. The big main room held a couch and a complex system of television monitors. There were a couple battered armchairs, and a wooden table. DVDs were stacked up beside the television console, and a game system was strewn on the floor. She smiled. It seemed even warriors needed down time. _

_She moved across the room, momentarily forgetting the need of the tool, led by the lingering scent of pizza. She went deeper into the Lair, toward the kitchen. She hesitated for a moment before entering. She hated stealing, but she hadn't eaten in two solid days. Cautiously, she opened a cupboard. It was disappointingly bare. She tried the refrigerator. Success! A box of pizza took up most of a shelf. She opened the top. There was nearly an entire pizza left. _

_She noticed three more empty boxes stacked next to the refrigerator. This was the leftover. She quickly slipped a few pieces out of the box and into a small plastic bag she found on the counter. It wasn't much, but it didn't look like the warriors had a lot of food. She hated stealing from them. She would do what she had to do to stay alive, but she was determined not to make others miserable through her actions. She didn't want to be like __**him**__, like Jon._

_Carrying her disappointing loot, she moved out of the kitchen and back into the main Lair. Silence covered the dimly lit room, reassuring her that her presence was still undiscovered. She moved quickly now, fearing the turtles might return at any time. _

_She scanned the room, and her eyes found a simple wooden door off the corner of the main room. She made her way toward it. Holding her breath, she turned the knob. It opened, revealing Donatello's lab. Counters lined the walls, littered with wires, tools, and electronic parts, some of which she couldn't begin to guess the purpose of. _

_Quickly, she located the tools she needed. She glanced longingly at some of the other equipment, but she couldn't bring herself to steal… 'Borrow,' she thought firmly. 'I'm borrowing. I'll return the tools when I'm through with them.'_

_She turned away, and slipped out the door. She almost made it to the exit. She was already pushing the heavy door open when a presence entered her consciousness. She turned with a gasp. A blue-masked turtle was standing in the doorway of an upstairs room, his eyes scanning the Lair. Before she could disappear into the night or gather her focus, his eyes landed squarely on her face. _

_***_

"Come on, Don, geesh, you're slower than Mike," called Raphael over his shoulder. Donatello didn't bother answering. He needed his strength for running. Raphael was in one of his "moods", searching for trouble as if driven. Michelangelo was trailing their older brother, a perpetual grin on his face.

"Hey, Raph, whatdaya say we go over by the zoo?"

"You just wanna see the animals, Mikey. We're supposed ta be patrollin'."

"It's quiet tonight, Raph. I'm bored. Let's go find a pizza."

"Guys," interjected Donatello.

"Mikey, yer a bottomless pit. Ya ate half a pizza by yerself before we left," Raphael was saying.

"I'm a growin' turtle," retorted Michelangelo.

"Guys," said Don again.

"Yer gonna be growin', if you keep eatin' that way. Growin' right outta yer shell," Raphael teased.

"Guys!" Donatello's sharp tone stopped the bickering. Raphael came over to where his purple-masked brother was kneeling, staring down into an alley alongside the office building where they perched.

"Whoa, Dude," breathed Michelangelo. They watched as three Foot ninja made their way to the side door of the building. Three more Foot came out. The two groups bowed to one another, and the three newcomers entered the building. "Whatdaya think they're doin', guys?" whispered Michelangelo.

"What difference does it make? Let's go kick some Foot behinds!" snarled Raph, pulling his sais.

"It looks like a changing of the guard," mussed Donatello. "Hang on, Raph, let's not charge in half-cocked. Let's see if we can find out what they're guarding."

"Heehee. It looks like the Foot Security Service is on the job," giggled Michelangelo. Raphael scowled, but to Donatello's surprise, subsided. He crouched beside his brothers, glaring at the building as if its very existence deeply offended him.

"What do ya think we oughta do, Don?"

"I don't know, Raph. I guess we should spy around. You know, see if we can figure out what they're up to.

"Sounds like a plan," said Raphael. "Let's go."

***

Leonardo stared at the girl for a long moment. What on earth? A stranger was in the Lair? He shook himself, throwing off the last clinging tendrils of the trance-state. _There was a stranger in the Lair_. With a yell, he vaulted down the stairs.

"Master Splinter, come quick! We've been discovered! There's a girl in the Lair!" His chest was on fire by the time he reached the bottom step. He ignored the pain, yanking his katanas from their sheathes. The girl took one terrified look at him, and plunged through the door, racing off down the tunnel.

Splinter rushed out of his room, his speed belying his years. "What is it, my son?"

"A stranger," Leonardo gasped, running for the exit. "She was in the Lair, Master. I've got to stop her." He disappeared into the tunnel before Splinter could respond.

***

_If Leonardo had been uninjured, she wouldn't have had a chance of escaping. As it was, Sylvia's long legs were keeping her ahead of the angry turtle. She didn't look back, just ran blindly through the sewers. The faintness of his footsteps did not fool her, she knew his ninja skills meant he moved quietly, even in full pursuit._

_She dashed down a tunnel, and made a hard right, hoping to throw him off. No such luck. Driven by desperation, she flew down the cavernous pipes, taking every turn she came to. Still, his padding footsteps followed, still his rasping breath echoed. Sylvia was becoming desperate. She flew around yet another corner, sliding on the moss-covered cement. Her feet went out from under her, and she plunged with a silent cry into the darkness. She threw out her arm to stop her fall, but it crumpled, cracking under her weight. Her head met the unyielding concrete, and she knew no more._


	7. Chapter 7 It'll Be All Right

Chapter 7 -It'll Be All Right-

"Don? Raph? Mike? This is Leonardo. Come in." Donatello slapped a hand over the shell cell, muffling the noise with a muttered curse. The three were half way down the fire escape, moving in on their target.

"This isn't a real good time, Leo. What's the matter?"

"Guys… you've gotta come home." Leonardo's voice sounded strained, his breathing shallow and ragged, as if he were out of breath. "She's too much for me, I can't carry her, and Don, I think her arm's broken. It's bent… kinda funny."

"What? Who? Is April hurt?" Donatello's mind went into high-gear, ticking over the first aid supplies he'd need to aid their human friend.

"No, Don, it's a strange girl. I've never seen her before. She was in the Lair. I chased her, and she fell. She's out cold. I need help."

"_A stranger was in our Lair?"_ Donatello's voice was strained. Michelangelo stared at him from the step below, his blue eyes wide. Raphael swore under his breath, fingering his sais. He glanced longingly toward the door the three Foot soldiers had disappeared through.

"We're on our way, Leo," Don said into the cell. "We'll track your location. Just keep your shell cell on, ok?"

"No problem Don."

The three brothers didn't need to talk. They made their way back up the fire escape to the rooftop.

"Let's head for the manhole at Tenth and George Streets," said Donatello, looking at the screen of his shell cell. "That manhole will drop us down only about six blocks from Leo's signal."

Raphael's eyes went wide with surprise. "Holy shell, Don, what's Leo doin' that far from the Lair? I thought 'Fearless' was supposed ta be takin' it easy."

"Apparently he chased this… girl," said Donatello with a shrug. "Come on, we've got to see what's going on." The three dropped to the alley, disappearing silently down the manhole and into the sewers.

***

"_Don't worry, Sylvia, when the bandages come off, you'll be good as new. There's nothing money can't buy, nothing too good for you, Baby…" Jon's voice echoed strangely, as if he were talking from far away. Sylvia turned to look at him, but the bandages covered her eyes. Good as new? She'd never speak again. How was that good? The heat that seared her face scorched her throat, damaging her vocal chords beyond repair, even beyond what Jon Dejorn's money could buy. _

"_It'll be ok, Sylvia, you'll see. The doctor assures me your face won't be scarred at all." Jon sounded so sweet in that moment, so sensitive. She could almost believe he cared for her. Almost. Sylvia knew better. The man who she'd fallen in love with was a lie. She'd seen the real Jon, and he was neither kind nor interested in anything that did not directly benefit himself. _

_She sensed the doctor's approach. She liked the doctor. He was a nice young man, with warm hands and a soft voice. His emotions were dampened by long interaction with patients and their families. His presence was easier to bear than Jon's._

"_How are you feeling, Sylvia?" asked the doctor, approaching the bed. She turned her face toward him, knowing he didn't expect an answer. He always spoke when entering her room, to let her know he was there. "We'll be taking Sylvia's bandages off, Mr. Dejorn. Do you want to stay?"_

"_Yes. I want to be here. In case she needs me." Sylvia wanted to shake her head, but she knew it would cause an argument, and Jon would win. He wanted to be there, and Jon always got what he wanted. She did not have the energy to argue, especially without the use of her voice. She sat still and submitted to the doctor's gentle hands, unwinding the length of gauze that covered the newly-grafted skin on her face. The light was too bright as her eyes were uncovered, and she blinked, trying to focus. _

_***_

Leonardo knelt in the tunnel beside the unconscious girl. He turned her over, careful of her arm. It stuck out at an unnatural angle.

"Who are you?" he whispered. He smoothed back a tendril of jet-black hair that had escaped the braid she wore. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Leo!" Donatello's voice echoed in the tunnel.

"Here, Don," Leonardo waved his hand. His brothers hurried up.

"Whoa, Leo, what'd ya do ta her?" Raphael had his sais in his hands. He stood squarely, looking down at his brother with a sardonic grin.

"It's not funny, Raphael. She was in the Lair. I caught her sneaking out the door. She ran, and I chased her. She fell."

"Well, she's got a compound fracture of this arm," Donatello straightened the limb in question with one quick movement, making the others wince. He glanced up. "Best to do that now, while she's unconscious," he explained. "It's a clean break, it should heal up ok, but we'll have to get her back to the lab so I can set the bones properly."

Raphael moved to take the girl's legs. Donatello slid his hands under her shoulders. "Mikey, steady her arm. We can't have it just dangling," instructed Donatello. Michelangelo lifted the limb gingerly, as if he were afraid it might come off. The motley group made their way carefully through the sewers, back toward the Lair Sylvia had fled.

***

"_The surgery was very successful, Sylvia," said the doctor. _

"_But she's still got the scar," protested Jon, sounding angry. Sylvia shrank instinctively from him. He was frowning._

"_It will fade," said the young doctor hastily. "The skin is brand-new. It will take time for the color to even out. But, within a few weeks, it will match her natural skin-tone. You won't even see the scar. You'll be good as new, Sylvia."_

"_Good, good," said Jon, smiling. The room seemed to light up, as if all were right with the world. Even the doctor was fooled. He smiled back, responding to Jon's charm. Jon could be a very likable man, when he wanted to be._

_Sylvia moaned, turning… The doctor was melting… fading before her. Jon stepped back into shadow, leaving her alone in a pool of light. She lay on an operating table, alone._

"_You owe me, Sylvia…I saved your life." Jon's voice was fading, as if he were calling from across a vast space. Other voices, strange voices, spoke in the emptiness…_

"_Is she gonna be ok?"_

"_I don't know, Mikey. I've set her arm, but she whacked her head pretty hard. We just have to wait to see if she wakes up."_

"_I hope she'll be ok. She's pretty."_

"_What the shell was she doin' in the Lair?"_

"_She had some of Don's tools in a bag. And a couple pieces of pizza. I guess she got hungry while she was robbing us."_

"_She took my tools?"_

"_Yeah. It's ok, Don, I got them. They're in that bag."_

_Sylvia felt as if she were listening to a badly tuned radio. The voices kept fading in and out, first from far away, then nearer._

"_Hey, this is the wrench I took with me by mistake the other day, when I went to work on that camera. Huh, weird."_

"_What would she want with Donny's tools?"_

"_More importantly, how'd she find us?"_

"_Yeah, and what're we gonna do with her?"_

"_I know what I'd like ta do wit' her."_

"_Raphael!"_

_Emotions flowed through the room. Curiosity, confusion, fear, there were too many for her to sort out and identify. Violence, anger, a touch of lust… She'd felt those emotions before, from Jon, when he'd hit her. The emotions touched her, raw, threatening. Her mind cried out in horror, her own fear clutching at her heart. Her eyes snapped open, and she struggled to sit up._

_She realized several things in a rush. First, she was lying on a table in the room she'd found the tools in. Second, four angry human-sized turtles were flanking either side of the table. And third, she was trapped._

_***_


	8. Chapter 8 Clairvoyant

Chapter 8 -Clairvoyant-

"I think she's awake, Don."

"I can see that, Mikey," said Donatello. It was all he could do not to roll his eyes. "Hey there. Are you ok?" he asked the girl, holding out his hands to her, to show her he wasn't holding a weapon. Raphael showed no such courtesy. He stood in a defensive crouch, his sais firmly in his fingers, scowling. Leonardo left his swords sheathed, on the principle that the katanas were too terrifying a weapon to brandish in the woman's face just as she woke up. Besides, if four trained ninjas couldn't handle one injured woman, he reasoned, they should all hang up their masks.

Michelangelo stood grinning at her. "'Sup?"

Sylvia's gaze shifted from one to the other, finally stopping on Donatello, who was closest. She watched him with wide, silver eyes, but made no effort to speak.

"What's your name?" asked Donatello gently. She stared, but didn't answer.

"How did you find our Lair?" asked Leonardo sternly. Her gaze flickered to him, but still she did not answer.

Michelangelo tried. "Hey, Dudette. My name's Mikey. How come you took our pizza? That was rude, Dude." She glanced at him, but looked back toward Donatello. A frown creased her brow. Donatello found himself feeling very peaceful. This girl was no threat. She was welcome to borrow his tools any time.

A goofy grin settled on Michelangelo's face as she turned toward him. This chick was friendly! Shell, they should invite her over to play video games. After all, what were a couple pieces of pizza between friends?

Raphael's hands lowered as if of their own accord when her eyes locked with his. His hold on the sais loosened. A confused look crossed his features, then his face relaxed into a rare half-smile. Leonardo watched his brothers out of the corner of his eye. The girl's gaze seemed to have the same effect on each of them. It was as if they were… hypnotized.

_That's ridiculous, _thought Leonardo. _No way can this girl just look at us and put us under some kind of spell. _Sylvia's gaze met his own. _She's pretty, that's all. And harmless. She wouldn't hurt anyone. I wonder why I was chasing her, anyway…_

Slowly, he stepped back from the table, leaving no obstruction between the girl and the exit.

***

_It was working. Sylvia projected peace, friendship, security. She was no threat. She was harmless. No one was in danger, no one meant anyone harm. They were all friends. _

_She slid off the table, gasping a little as her arm twitched, protesting the movement. She glanced down, distracted. Her arm was encased in an expertly-wrapped splint. She must've broken it when she fell, and the turtles… the turtles treated her injury. Sylvia smiled. She projected her very real gratitude, and saw the one in the purple mask smile in response. So he was the medic of the group, as well as the engineer. _

_He has a nice smile, she thought. She moved slowly toward the door. The turtles stood, each with a goofy grin, watching her, but made no move to stop her as she picked up her bag and moved toward the door. She was slightly surprised at her success. It was only possible to make people believe things they _wanted_ to believe. _

_Perhaps the turtles wanted to believe she was a good person. This was a rare quality, found only in good people. People with evil intentions were far harder to influence than the good-hearted, Sylvia had found. Good-hearted people looked for the good in others. Evil tended to seek itself out._

_She was nearly to the door when she heard it. _Scritch, tap. Scritch, tap. Scritch, tap…_ She cautiously opened the door, still smiling over her shoulder at the dazed turtles._

"_It seems our guest has awakened. Welcome to our home." Sylvia started at the new voice, her concentration broken. She turned to the source. If she could've made a sound, she would have screamed. A four-foot tall rat stood regarding her calmly, wearing a robe and carrying a wooden walking stick. Sylvia backed up involuntarily, trembling with shock._

_The blue-masked turtle was the first to react. "Hey! Where do you think you're going?" he cried, shaking himself as if he were just waking up. _

_The one in red crossed the room with a growl, grabbing Sylvia's arm. She felt anger from him, fear, and violence. He was the source of the feelings that had frightened her when she first woke up. She tried to jerk away, but his grip on her arm was vice-like, and the glittering anger in his eyes warned her against resisting him. _

_***_

"What? What happened?" Donatello turned, staring. He felt strange, as if he'd been dreaming. He looked at the empty bed, then toward the door where Raphael had the girl's arm in a death-grip. She was looking at Raphael as if he'd devour her whole at any moment. Raphael was returning her terrified stare with an angry scowl, undoubtedly compounding her fear ten-fold.

"Raph, take it easy," said Donatello. He wasn't sure why, but he felt sorry for her. She didn't look dangerous. _But she found her way past my security systems and into the Lair,_ he reminded himself. _I can't let myself be fooled by appearances._

"What just happened," demanded Leonardo, stepping closer to the girl. "What did you do to us?"

"She didn't do nothin', Leo," said Michelangelo, still sporting the remnants of a grin. "I was gonna ask her to play Road Rage IV with me!"

"Don't be stupid, Mikey," growled Raphael. "She was playin' some kinda mind game wit' us. What gives, lady?"

The girl squirmed, trying to break Raphael's grip. Leonardo caught her other arm. She glanced from one to the other fearfully. Donatello was startled to see tears welling in her eyes. She stopped fighting and stood, limp, as if defeated. It made his heart hurt to see her looking so helpless, so defenseless.

"Don't worry, Miss, we're not going to hurt you," he said, coming forward. "We have some questions, that's all."

"Yeah, like how the shell did you find our Lair?" Raphael glared, unrelenting. The girl still didn't answer. It occurred to Donatello that she hadn't made a sound since she'd woken up.

"Language, Raphael," said Splinter mildly. "What is your name, Miss?" he asked. Donatello waited. Usually people responded to Splinter's practiced calm. He had a reassuring presence, at least to those who'd never seen him take down a pack of Foot Ninja single-pawed. The girl's eyes flicked to his face, and she visibly relaxed.

Splinter's reaction, however, startled even Donatello. His eyes widened, and he stepped back, holding up his paw as if in defense. Donatello started forward toward his Sensei, but the moment passed in an instant, and Splinter was once more his normal calm, collected self. He was watching the girl with a look Donatello couldn't quite place.

"It would seem our young guest is gifted with a special ability," said Splinter quietly.

"What ability, Sensei?" asked Leonardo.

"She is a clairvoyant, my son."


	9. Chapter 9 Questions

* * *

Chapter 9 -Questions-

"She's _what? _Ya mean, she can like, read minds an' stuff?" Raphael stepped back without releasing his grip on her arm, as if she had a disease he was afraid to catch.

"No," said Splinter. His eyes never left Sylvia's face. "She has the ability to… project… certain emotions. Most likely she can sense others' emotions as well?" His eyebrows rose. The girl swallowed, and after a moment, nodded.

"Is that what she did to us? She projected emotions… I felt sort of… peaceful," said Leonardo. "Like she wasn't any threat."

Splinter nodded. "Yes, Leonardo. I suspect she was using her ability to calm you and your brothers, in an attempt to escape. She has an unusually strong and rare gift."

"Well, mebbe she can use her _gift_ to tell us her name, huh?" growled Raphael, losing patience with the conversation. "And what she's doin', sneakin' around our Lair?" The girl shrank from him, beginning to squirm again in his grasp.

"Raph, I think we can let her go. She's not going to try to run again. Are you?" Leonardo looked sternly at her. She stopped squirming, and shook her head. Leonardo let her go. After a moment, Raphael also loosed his grip. She backed away from them, rubbing her arm where Raphael's vice-like fingers had held her.

***

_Sylvia's head spun. She'd seen enough of the turtles not to be bothered by their appearance, but the rat… she'd never seen anything like him before. She sensed no malice from him, though, only a seemingly endless calm. Released from the turtles' grip, she relaxed, reassured by his presence. He reminded her vaguely of her own father. It was obvious where the turtles' skill and training came from. The rat was… in some odd way, their father._

_When the red-masked turtle demanded her name, she felt a mix of strong emotions from him. Anger was strongest, underpinned by a hint of fear. There was something else, too… Suspicion? Hurt? Yet, it didn't seem directed at her in particular. She had the feeling he reacted to all humans this way. He would be the hardest to get past. The blue-masked one spoke again._

"_How did you find us? What do you want?" he demanded. She could feel his anger building. She took another step back, and bumped into the one in orange. She turned and edged away from him. _

"_Hey, chill, Dudette. I'm Michelangelo. You can call me Mikey. This is Donatello," he gestured. "And you already met Raphael," the one in the red mask glowered, "And Leonardo." Michelangelo's smile was genuine. She met his blue eyes, and liked him immediately. His emotions touched her mind, warm, welcoming, reassuring. The underlying fear wasn't as strong from him. _

"_Ok, so now ya know who we are," said Raphael. "Now it's yer turn to answer. Who are you? And what're ya doin' here?" _

***

"Who are ya? And what're ya doin', sneakin' into our Lair?" asked Raphael again. He took a menacing step toward the girl. She backed away, her silvery eyes widening.

"Don't be afraid, Miss," said Donatello again, his voice even, calm, reassuring. He moved toward her, holding out his hand, as if approaching a spooked animal. "Really, we don't want to hurt you. We just want to know what you're doing here."

"Hey, mebbe she _can't_ talk," said Michelangelo. The girl looked at him, and nodded, looking relieved.

"What? Really? You can't speak?" Leonardo's eye-ridges rose. She touched her throat, and shook her head again.

"You're mute? Really?" Donatello was staring at her as well. She met his eyes, and nodded. "So that's why you haven't answered our questions."

"What do we do now?" Raphael asked. He waved his sai in frustration. "How're we gonna get answers outta her if she can't even talk?"

"I know, she can draw pictures. She can use my pens," said Michelangelo.

Donatello shook his head. "Mikey, she's mute, not illiterate. She can write. You _can_ write, can't you, Miss?" The girl nodded. She smiled at Michelangelo, but it wasn't a sneer. She seemed to genuinely like him.

"Great. We can ask the questions, she can write her answers," said Raphael. Donatello rummaged through his drawer, bringing out a notepad and pen. He held them out to the girl. She took them cautiously, as if still afraid he might attack her.

"Perhaps we should retire to the kitchen," suggested Splinter. "Where we can offer our guest nourishment and a surface to write upon."

"That's a great idea, Sensei. I'm starvin'. I betcha she's hungry, too," said Michelangelo, beaming. He caught her arm. The girl flinched, but didn't try to pull away. He led her out of the lab and to the kitchen, pulling out a chair. The others followed. Reluctantly, she sat down. She set the notebook and pen down on the table and sat with her hands clasped in her lap.

"Ok, Mike, why don't you heat up some pizza while we talk to her," said Leonardo. Michelangelo pulled the pizza box out of the refrigerator.

"What do you Dudes want? There's pepperoni and sausage left."

"We don't need no pizza, Mikey. We need to talk. What is this, anyway, a bed-and-breakfast? We're interrogatin' her, not feedin' her!" snapped Raphael. The girl shrank in her chair, trembling under his glare. Leonardo sighed and sat down at the table.

Donatello took the seat on her other side. "Don't mind him, Miss. Raphael's just… grumpy." He picked up the pen and held it out to her. She took it with trembling fingers. "First, what's your name?" he asked gently.

_Sylvia Rose_, she wrote. She glanced at Donatello.

"Sylvia. That's a nice name," he said, smiling. "Sylvia, why did you come here?"

_I needed the tools. I meant to return them. I'm sorry._

"How'd you find the Lair?" growled Raphael, leaning over the table menacingly. Sylvia shrank back in the chair. Her hand shook as she wrote.

_Followed you. Saw Donatello put in the code._

"You _followed_ us?" Raphael stared at her in disbelief. She nodded. "From where?" His eyes narrowed as she hesitated.

_The tunnels. I…_ she paused. _Felt Leonardo, injured. You were together, your emotions were strong. I followed you here. I just wanted to borrow the tools. I don't mean any harm. Please let me go._ A tear splashed on the paper.

"Oh fer cryin' out loud. Don't start blubberin' all over da place. We ain't gonna hurt ya," Raphael stood up and stepped back from the table.

"Here, this'll make her feel better," said Michelangelo, sliding a plate of pepperoni pizza in front of her. Sylvia glanced nervously at him, but didn't take it.

"It's ok, Sylvia. We know you must be hungry. Is that why you took food as well?" asked Leonardo. Sylvia hung her head, a deep blush creeping up her cheeks.

_Yes,_ she wrote. _I was hungry. I'm sorry. I don't want to be a thief._

"Well, you don't have to steal now. Go ahead. Eat," said Leonardo. Sylvia glanced at him, still fearful, but hunger won out over embarrassment and fright. She picked up the pizza and dove in.

"Whatda we do now, 'Fearless'?" asked Raphael. He leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed over his plastron. "We can't exactly let her waltz outta here. She knows how to find the Lair. What if the Foot get hold of her?"

"I don't know yet, Raph," said Leonardo. Sylvia set the slice of pizza down, and stared at him, her eyes wide. She grabbed the pen.

_Please… I won't tell anyone. Just let me go. Please!_

"We can't do that, Sylvia. You're a danger to us." Leonardo spoke sternly.

Sylvia's hand trembled as she wrote.

_What are you going to do with me?_

***

* * *

**A/N**

**o.o Sorry to leave you (and Sylvia!) hanging like this, but ya know, I've got to have a few cliff-hangers to keep you reading, right? ;)**

**More soon...  
**


	10. Chapter 10 Foot

**Yeah, enter the _really_ bad guys. Sylvia thought Jon Dejorn was bad, she hasn't met the Shredder and his goons... Yet.**

**I won't leave you hanging for long, promise. :)  
Comments are welcome (loved! I will pet them and pat them and name them "George"...), as always. **

* * *

Chapter 10 -The Foot-

Jeremy made his way down to the den, avoiding subway security and dodging a homeless guy who tried to grab his jacket. He was nimble, even weighed down with the odd assortment of items he'd scavenged.

"Sylvia?" There was no answer from his friend. He shrugged. Sylvia came and went, as he did. She would return when she was ready. He sat down on the stone floor, and began emptying his pockets. He'd had a good scavenging trip. He'd been fortunate enough to see the cook at a local bakery tossing out their day-old bread and doughnuts, and he'd been able to retrieve most of them before anything gross got tossed into the dumpster on top. Sylvia would be pleased; they had enough food for at least a couple of days.

He devoured two of the doughnuts, before regretfully closing the bag. He'd need to save the food, make it last as long as he could. Besides, Sylvia would be hungry, too, when she came back. Jeremy lay down in the nest of blankets. He'd just wait here for her.

***

The black-clad soldier moved silently through the now-deserted subway tunnel. No one, not even the homeless man who lay propped against the wall, snoring, noticed him. He practiced the art of invisibility, staying in the shadows as he followed the boy.

He briefly considered slitting the homeless man's throat as he lay there, but decided against it. A murder in the subway would attract the attention of the local authorities. No, better to spend his time finding the girl's hide-out first. Business before pleasure.

He slipped down the tunnel, following the tracks. He listened intently for the train, knowing the next one wasn't due for another twenty minutes. He had perhaps ten before the subway filled with travelers once more. The opening he suspected would be there loomed large, a darker black against the tunnel wall. The Foot smiled to himself. So, this is where the boy he was tracking had disappeared. Finding the girl would be easier than he'd imagined. Sources on the street had placed his target with the boy. Now all he had to do was follow the boy's trail. If the girl wasn't in the hideout, he would simply force the boy to tell him where to find her. He smiled under his mask. Perhaps business and pleasure would become one.

***

_Sylvia sat in the chair, feeling surrounded, trapped, and more threatened than she had since she'd woken up. Leonardo regarded her with calm efficiency, like an entomologist studying a bug. Tentatively, she reached out, seeking his intentions, but she met a barrier. He was aware of her ability now, and had set up mental defenses against her. She withdrew, and scanned the others. _

_She felt the same resistance from each of them, though their defenses were less perfect than Leonardo's. From Donatello she sensed sympathy. Michelangelo was the most open. His emotions were calm, trusting, focused on his older brothers. Raphael… She recoiled emotionally. His hostility was still strong, simmering just below the surface._

_Sylvia began to despair. They weren't going to let her leave alive. She thought of her father, not for the first time since she'd come to the city. She imagined him wondering what had happened to his only daughter, wondering why there were no phone calls, no letters, never knowing where she'd gone. Tears slid down her cheeks, not for herself, but for her family, who she was sure she'd never see again._

_***_

Splinter had disappeared into his room while the others questioned her. Now, he entered the kitchen, scritch, tap. Scritch, tap. Scritch, tap.

"Sensei?" Leonardo turned. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"No, Leonardo," said Splinter calmly. His eyes were on Sylvia. "I sensed a… disturbance from our guest, and came to investigate. What has upset you so, my dear?"

"Leo says she can't leave, Sensei," Michelangelo said. "She wants to know what we're gonna do with her."

"Is this true, Leonardo?" asked Splinter quietly. Sylvia watched warily as the old rat approached. Leonardo's eye ridges rose as Splinter walked over and stood next to Sylvia's chair. She shifted, frowning. Splinter looked directly at her, and she froze. She blinked, and then relaxed, with a half-smile. She held her hand out to Splinter, and he touched it with his paw.

"I'm afraid we can't let her leave, Sensei," said Leonardo apologetically. Sylvia glanced at him, nervous, and took her hand back from Splinter.

"What do you propose we do, my Son?" asked Splinter.

Leonardo held up his hands in a helpless gesture. "I don't know, Sensei. We can't risk her leading anyone to the Lair. I don't know if we can trust her."

Sylvia picked up the pen. _You can trust me. I won't tell anyone. I give you my word._

"That's not good enough," snapped Raphael. "She'll say anyt'ing to get outta here. How do we know she won't go runnin' to the Foot?"

_What's "the foot"?_ she scribbled.

Donatello watched her write. "A gang of ninjas who would love to find out where we live," he explained. "They're dangerous, Sylvia. If they knew you had information, they wouldn't hesitate to use terrible means to force it out of you. Believe me, you don't want to mess with those guys."

_I'll keep that in mind_, she wrote. _But now what? Why can't I leave? I'll go away, far away. I want to leave the city anyway. No one will find me. No one will use me to find you. Please._

"We can't take that chance, Sylvia," said Leonardo, sounding frustrated. "Listen, it's late, and we've been out patrolling all night. Why don't we all get some rest, and we'll figure something out in the morning, ok? You'll have to stay for tonight, but maybe we can work this out."

Sylvia looked at him, frowning. _You can't keep me here!_ she scribbled furiously.

Leonardo shook his head. "I'm afraid we have to." He got up. "Who's going to take the first watch?"

"I will," said Raphael. Sylvia met his eyes, and shrank back, trembling. He scowled, fingering the handle of his sai.

"Ok, Raph. All you have to do is keep her from leaving, ok?"

"I can handle it, Leo."

"Sylvia, will you give us your word you won't try to run away? We don't want to have to tie you up," said Leonardo seriously. Sylvia jumped up, shaking. Donatello stood up, too, and Raphael moved to block the door, taking a defensive stance, his eyes narrowing. Sylvia froze. Even Splinter was watching her warily. She knew there was no way she could get past four trained ninjas and their master. For an instant she was tempted to try, but the hostility emanating from Raphael made her fear that she would end up hogtied in a corner, regretting the attempt. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. She picked up the pad and pen.

_Ok,_ she wrote. _If you promise not to tie me up, I won't try to leave. Where can I sleep?_

The turtles relaxed. "You can use the couch, Sylvia," said Donatello. "Come on, I'll show you where it is."

***


	11. Chapter 11 Swan Song

Chapter 11 -Swan Song-

Jeremy woke with a start. He'd just begun to doze off when… something… disturbed him. He had the distinct, and uncomfortable feeling someone was in the tunnel. He got to his feet, and, using every bit of the skill of moving silently Sylvia had taught him, he moved to the crack in the tunnel wall, and peered out. He couldn't see anything in the darkened tunnel, but that didn't mean nothing was there.

His instincts were on high alert, and Jeremy had long ago learned to always follow his instincts. He slipped out of the den, and made his way down the tunnel, clinging to the wall, making less noise than the rat which paused to glance at the boy before going on its way. Jeremy didn't see the Foot ninja creep into the den, but he did hear a faint _thud_ as the throwing star landed in the center of his pile of blankets.

He had no idea what the sound was, but he hadn't survived most of his young life on the streets by being foolish. He kept moving away from the den, deeper into the sewers. He thought he heard a faint curse, then a crash of metal. He winced, certain that someone had discovered, and destroyed, Sylvia's heating system. They'd have to find a new place to stay. Jeremy cursed under his breath, and picked up his pace. There were other exits from the sewers. He'd lay low for a while, and find Sylvia. It wouldn't be safe to return to the cave-like hole. It was too bad, really. The den had begun to feel like home.

***

_Silvia curled up on the rather lumpy couch. Raphael settled himself in an armchair a few feet away. Michelangelo had provided her with a blanket. Sylvia lay down and closed her eyes, pretending to go to sleep. She waited, listening to his breathing. It was steady and even, as if he were resting, but she could see the glitter of his eyes under his mask, and his hands rested on the handles of the deadly sais tucked in his belt. She reached out with her mind, but his defenses, if anything, were stronger. She withdrew. There was no sense in wasting her energy if he were prepared to consciously guard against her attempt to influence him. She closed her eyes. Time passed, but her racing mind denied her sleep._

"_What happened to yer neck?" The growled whisper came out of the dark, startling her into opening her eyes. "I know ya ain't sleepin'. Yeh can write on the pad if ya wanna talk, ok? Ya don't hafta tell me. I just wondered where ya got that scar." He gestured with a sai toward the notepad Donatello had so thoughtfully left on the table. _

_Slowly, watching him, she reached for the pen and pad. It was a fire, she wrote. I was burned. I had surgery to fix my face, but they couldn't fix my voice. Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked them away. I used to be a singer._

"_Really?" Raphael's eyes widened. She felt surprise from him, the first emotion she'd been able to sense since he stationed himself in the chair._

_I sang at a nightclub. The Swan Song._

"_That was some snazzy joint before it burned," he said. "Wait a minute, is that how you got burnt? Were you in the club when it went up?"_

_Yes._

"_Huh."_

_What about you? What do you do? Besides kidnap girls? _

_If she could keep him talking, maybe he'd let his guard down. It wasn't much of a chance, but it seemed like the only one she had._

"_Hey, you busted into _our_ Lair, remember?" he scowled._

_Fair enough. _

"_I hang out wit' my friends," he said. _

_Your brothers?_

"_I got other friends, ya know. Human friends."_

_Really? _

_Her eyebrows rose. The turtles had allowed themselves to be seen by humans? She hadn't thought they would trust anyone._

"_Yeah. What's da matter, don't think a human could be my friend?" The hostility was back now. His eyes narrowed, darkening dangerously. She felt anger, and carefully concealed hurt. She'd touched a raw nerve. "You t'ink 'cause I'm a mutant, I'm some kinda _freak_ what don't have no friends?" he asked. Sylvia shook her head._

"_Just 'cause my skin's different than yers, doesn't mean I ain't got friends." _

_Sylvia sat up. She moved toward him, slowly. Raphael's sais were in his hands, but he didn't stand up. He sat still, watching her warily, and let her approach. She knelt beside the chair. _

_It's not different, she wrote, showing him the pad. Look._

_She unbuttoned her shirt, thanking God she'd worn a tank-top underneath. She heard the turtle's breath hiss as the angry scar was uncovered._

_Cautiously, she reached up, and touched his arm. Raphael moved his sais so he was holding both in one hand, out of her reach. Sylvia held out her hands to him, palms up. She turned so he could get a full view of her scar. No one, apart from the doctor and Jon, had seen it before. She trembled under his gaze. _

_Raphael stretched out a finger and traced the edge of her scar. Sylvia moved her hand over his arm, feeling the cool, leathery skin under her fingertips, fascinated. She felt him flinch, tensing at her touch, but he let her trace the muscle along his arm to his elbow-pad. She laid her palm against his fore-arm, and smiled up into his eyes, projecting warmth and friendship. She saw his eyes widen, then the barrier came down again. He jerked away._

"_Don't try that mind-control jazz on me," he growled._

_Sylvia fell back, alarmed. She grabbed the pen. _

_I don't mean to, she wrote. I'm not trying to do anything. It's how I communicate._

"_Yeah, well, sorry, but I don't trust ya," said Raphael, slipping his sais back into his belt and adjusting his elbow pad. He crossed his arms over his plastron, covering his arm where she'd touched it with his hand in a defensive gesture. _

_Sylvia crawled back to the couch. She climbed up, covering herself with the blanket, and closed her eyes, withdrawing from Raphael, from contact with anyone, closing herself off. She curled up, and tried to sleep._

_***_

Donatello watched through the crack of his slightly ajar lab door. He sighed, seeing Sylvia go back to the couch, and went back to Googling. _Sylvia… Sylvia Rose… _The Swan Song's webpage came up.

_Come in and be carried away by the sweet melody that is Sylvia Rose…_ he read. Donatello snorted softly. Who wrote this stuff, anyway? He checked the page's publish date, and found it was over six months since the page had been updated. So she had been a singer. He searched further on The Swan Song. The place had burnt down months ago. So that's what had happened to her.

_Typical_, thought Donatello. Sylvia had a small-town air about her. _She must've come to the big city, hoping to make it as a singer or actress or something. Looks like she was actually talented, if she sang in a upscale place like The Swan Song. She must have lost her job, and her voice, when the place burned._

Donatello frowned, reading the articles on the fire. _"Police are baffled as to the cause of the fire…", "Arson suspected…", "No one was injured…" _ Donatello stared at the screen. No one injured? But the fire had to be how Sylvia lost her voice. And he'd overheard Raph asking her about a scar… he'd just assumed she'd been in the fire.

He shrugged. He'd ask her, tomorrow. For now, he'd try to get a few hours sleep before morning training.

***

Jeremy kept moving. He made his way through the streets, back to the bakery where he'd gotten the bread. He curled up in a doorway, trying to make himself comfortable. He didn't like sleeping out here in the open, but for now there was no other choice. He'd wait a few days before returning to the den to find Sylvia.

***

_The Lair was quiet. She stretched, opening her eyes, and carefully projected, searching for the turtles. She sensed them, nearby, but not in the room. Their emotions felt focused, concentrated. Cautiously, she got off the couch._

_I wonder where they are? she thought. She heard a distinct _thud_, and a grunt. She moved silently toward the source of the sounds. Peering through the open door, she spotted the turtles. They stood in two pairs, circling one another, Raphael and Leonardo, Donatello and Michelangelo. Each had their weapons out. Splinter was off to the side, watching. She watched in fascinated horror as Leonardo rushed at his brother. A _clang_ rang out clearly as metal met metal, Raphael's sais turning his brother's katana away. Raphael ducked low, rushing Leonardo. Leonardo dodged to one side, twisting to avoid his brother's onslaught. _

_Sylvia heard wood rattle as Michelangelo's nunchucks met Donatello's bo staff. Michelangelo grunted as the end of the bo swung around, catching him neatly on the thigh just below his shell. _

_She backed away from the door, and slipped toward the exit. Perhaps while they were distracted, she could escape. She didn't see the chair leaned back against the wall, or the tall man sitting on it, until she nearly tripped over him._

"_Hey, Babe." _

_Sylvia nearly jumped out of her skin. She backed away, trembling, as the man stood up. His shoulders were wide and muscular. He wore a torn tank-top and stained cargo pants. A hockey mask was pushed up to the top of his head, the strap holding back long black hair. His eyes twinkled, blue and cold. Sylvia stumbled backward._

_His emotions were raw, open. Horror overwhelmed her as she felt his strength, his innate hostility, a touch of lust as he looked her up and down. She felt as though she were a T-bone flavored antelope, being eyed by a hungry lion. He held out his hand, and she tripped over her own foot in her haste to escape his touch. She felt panicked, suffocated by the whirl of emotion from him. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. Confusion floated to the surface of the onslaught of mental projection, and… humor. He was laughing at her. Like Jon. _

_I'm dead. He's sent this guy to get me, and I'm going to die. The thought drifted through her mind as the haze came down over her vision and she sank to the floor._

_***_


	12. Chapter 12 Casey

**Thanks to those who've read and reviewed! If you sent an annony review, I can't reply, but I appreciate the kind words all the same.**

**Things are going to take a bad turn for Sylvia in the next couple chapters, but don't worry, the guys are heroes for a reason, right?!**

**Five chapters to go...  
**

* * *

Chapter 12 -Casey-

"Number sixty-two, come in. Base calling Number sixty-two." The ninja touched the communicator in his mask, turning on the microphone sewn into the fabric.

"Sixty-two here," he hissed.

"Report."

"I have discovered the target's hide-out," he whispered. "She's been staying in a primitive… cave, in a tunnel off the Seventh-Street subway station. It's empty now, but I'm sure she'll return."

"We have a more important errand for you, Sixty-Two. Return to base immediately."

"What about the girl?  
"The girl can wait."

"Hai. Sixty-two out."

***

Syliva blinked, the room coming slowly into focus. She stirred, and began to sit up, but the room seemed to tilt, and she felt dizzy.

"Geez, I know I'm a good-lookin' guy and all, but girls don't usually pass out when dey see me." The rough, unfamiliar voice made her open her eyes and look up.

The man with the hockey mask was leaning casually against the door. Sylvia scrambled backward, crab-style.

"Miss Rose, Mr. Jones is a friend," said Splinter. Sylvia's gaze settled on Splinter's face. Her trembling stopped. She reached out tentatively with her hand. Splinter's eyebrows rose, but he took her hand in his paw, and helped her to her feet.

"Master…" Leonardo stepped forward, alarm showing in his posture. Sylvia glanced at him, and released Splinter's paw. She held her hands out to Leonardo, as if to show she was unarmed, harmless.

Leonardo's eyes narrowed. He deliberately stiffened, closing his mind against her. Sylvia's smile faltered. Her hands dropped to her sides, and she ducked her head.

Donatello felt sorry for her. She looked so lost, so alone. He went over to her, and touched her hand. She jumped, startled. Donatello smiled. She looked shocked, then, slowly, she smiled back, moving closer to him.

"Don, snap out of it," said Leonardo.

"Relax, Leo," said Donatello. "We've all been practicing Splinter's mental discipline. She's not doing anything to me. I think Casey scared her, that's all."

"Leonardo, you need not be alarmed. She has not attempted to influence any of you. I would have sensed it," said Splinter.

"Geez, Case, what'd ya do?" Raphael turned to Casey Jones, who stood looking supremely confused by the entire exchange.

"Whatdaya mean? All I said was "hi", and she freaked out."

"What were you thinking about?" asked Donatello.

"Huh?"

"When you said "hi". What were you thinking about? What were you thinking about _her_? Casey, she's… psychic. She can feel your thoughts."

Casey Jones turned a brand-new shade of pink. It went well with his coloring. "Well, I, uh…"

Raphael laughed. "Casey, you pervert," he said, walking over and punching his friend on the arm. "I know what you were thinkin'!"

"Yeah, only 'cause you thought the same thing when you saw her!" responded Casey, punching him back.

"Hey, I'm not a perv like you," responded Raphael. Casey swung and missed, and Raphael tackled him. In an instant they were rolling around on the floor. Sylvia backed away, alarmed, but the others just moved out of harm's way.

"It's ok, Sylvia, they do this all the time," said Donatello. She looked at him uncertainly. He shrugged. "It's a testosterone-driven, overgrown boy thing," he said. Sylvia stared, then smiled. She shook with a silent laugh.

"Hey, you're pretty when you smile," said Donatello. Sylvia blushed to the roots of her hair. "Come on, let's see what Michelangelo can whip up for breakfast. I need a cup of coffee," said Donatello, gently steering her away from the whirl of black hair and green skin that was Raphael and Casey.

***

The baker opened his shop's front door, oblivious to the small boy curled in the alley out back. He went to work, pulling out the pans he'd need to bake that day's batch of bread, and gathering the flour, yeast and salt to mix the dough.

Outside, Jeremy stretched, yawning. He got to his feet, moving away from the doorway. Most shop-owners didn't appreciate kids sleeping around their stores. Jeremy moved out of the alley, away from the bakery. It was best not to hang around in one place for too long, it attracted the wrong kind of attention.

He walked jauntily down the street, and found himself a spot in the park under a tree. He pulled one of the loaves of bread out of his pocket and enjoyed a satisfying, if dry, breakfast. Across the street, an office building, marked Dejorn Associates, was opening up. Jeremy watched people in business suits walk through the doors.

He stared as a familiar figure walked in. Oroku Saki! Jeremy remembered seeing the guy in the newspapers. Wow. Wait 'til he told Sylvia he'd seen the famous philanthropist in person! Jeremy got to his feet and started wandering around the park. He found a culvert under one of the walk-ways which was high enough to stay dry in all but the rainiest months. For a few days, at least, this would be a good place to call home.

***

_I could get used to this,_ _thought Sylvia, sitting down at the table. Michelangelo placed a plate in front of her, heaped with toaster-waffles, scrambled eggs, and real, honest-to-goodness French toast._

"_Geez, Mikey, ya tryin' to fatten her up?" asked Raphael, plopping down at the table. Sylvia noticed a bruise on his cheek, and his jaw was swollen._

"_Hey, got any grub for a poor starving door-stop?" Casey Jones stood in the doorway, filling it with his muscular frame. Sylvia started, almost standing, but his emotions were masked now. He felt tentative, wary. She felt a hint of shame from him, and her eyebrows rose in surprise. _

_"Hey, Chick…" _

_Donatello turned to glare at Casey. "Her name is Sylvia, you unwashed cretin."_

"_Umm… I mean, Sylvia," stammered Casey, looking distinctly uncomfortable. He couldn't quite meet her eyes. "Yeah, I mean, sorry 'bout before and all dat. I didn't mean ta scare ya or nuttin." Sylvia gave him a small smile. She projected feelings of friendship. Casey's eyes widened. "Whoa." _

"_Careful, Casey, she'll put ya under her spell," Raphael reached for the syrup. _

"_Shouldn't be hard with a mind as simple as his," muttered Donatello. _

_Casey ignored him, edging over to the table. "So, we're cool, right?" he asked. Sylvia nodded. "Cool." He sat down, snatching the syrup out of Raphael's hand._

"_Hey!" There was a brief tussle, which ended with Leonardo plucking the bottle from Casey's outstretched arm where he'd been holding it out of Raphael's reach. Sylvia a laughed silently. They were such a typical bunch of boys._

_Sadness rolled over Sylvia in a wave. Jeremy… Is he ok? Does he have enough to eat? she thought. I wonder where he slept last night, if he made it home ok… _

_She looked up, startled by the expressions around the table. Donatello, Leonardo and Michelangelo were staring at her. Raphael and Casey Jones were busy stuffing toaster waffles into their mouths as fast as they could go, barely taking time to chew._

"_What was _that_?" asked Donatello, incredulous. _

"_Dude, I felt so… sad, for a minute," said Michelangelo. _

_Leonardo turned on his heel, and left the room. Sylvia hung her head, ashamed of allowing her feelings to get the best of her. Leonardo returned, carrying the pen and paper. He set them on the table. _

"_What was that?" he asked. Sylvia swallowed hard, and picked up the pen._

_Sorry, she wrote. I was thinking of… a friend. He'll be worrying about me._

_Leonardo read what she'd written and nodded. "We'll try to work this out today, Sylvia. We don't want to keep you prisoner here."_

"_What? What happened?" asked Raphael, looking up from his plate._

"_I win!" hooted Casey, crumbs flying out of his mouth._

_Eeew, Sylvia wrote._

_Donatello read, and laughed. "You said it, Sylvia."_

_***_

"Results, Saki. I'm paying you for results! Why hasn't the girl been found yet?"

"My ninjas are… busy at the moment," said the Shredder smoothly. "As you have been informed, _Richard_, my organization is occupied with several other… projects."

"Projects? What could possibly be more important than returning Sylvia to me?" Richard Dejorn stood up. He was frustrated. Richard was used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it, and he didn't like being told to wait. "I've got a _lot_ of money tied up in that girl, Saki. I _need_ her back."

"And just why is this girl so important to you, Richard?" The Shredder's black eyes narrowed. "This city is full of girls. What is so special about this particular one?"

"She has a gift," said Richard, swallowing hard.

"What sort of gift? I thought her voice was lost in that unfortunate fire."

"She's special, all right? I want her back."

"Richard, we're business partners. As such, we should… work together." Oroku Saki stood very close to Richard. Saki smiled, a cold, evil grin. "Don't you agree?  
***


	13. Chapter 13 Stolen

**Once again, thanks for the reviews!**

**And here I thought my chapters were on the long-ish side. I'll take "the chaps are too short, they go by too fast" as a compliment! : )**

**This one's a little on the short side, and does end with a cliffhanger, but I'll get the next one up pronto, promise!**

**

* * *

  
**

Chapter 13 -Stolen-

Jeremy sat up and stretched. He shivered. The morning was cold. _Maybe I'd better go back to the subway,_ he thought. _Sylvia might be there, wondering where I am._ He crawled out of the culvert, and took off across the park. Unnoticed, a black-clad ninja followed his progress with his eyes. Number Sixty-two was coming off his shift as security guard for Dejorn's building.

"Sixty-two to base. Sixty-two to base…"

"Base here."

"I've spotted the target. Permission to pursue."

"Permission granted."

Number Sixty-two smiled under his mask. He was looking forward to talking to the boy. Yes, this would be a good day.

***

"_I just t'ink dis is a bad idea, Leo," Raphael was saying. He glowered at Sylvia. She returned his glare._

_I want to leave. Now. she scribbled on the pad._

"_I think we can trust her, Raph," said Leo. "Master Splinter says he senses no malice from her, no bad intentions. We can't keep her locked up here forever." Sylvia nodded, agreeing with him. _

_Donatello perched on the arm of the couch, watching the exchange as if it were a three-way tennis match. _

"_Aww, I was hopin' she could stay with us for a while. You like pizza, right Sylvia? We like pizza. You like Master Splinter. We like Master Splinter. You like video games, dontcha? We like video games. See, it's perfect. You could just stay here with us!" Michelangelo held his hands out, grinning._

_You're sweet, Mike, but I have to go. I have a life of my own, Sylvia scribbled. She let her frustration flow outward. Michelangelo frowned, and nodded slowly, but he wasn't about to give up so easily._

"_But Sylvia, where will ya go?" he asked, giving her his best puppy expression. Sylvia grinned, but shook her head._

_I have a home, Mike. I need to get back there. My friend will be looking for me. He'll be worried._

"_And who's dis friend?" Raphael snapped. "How come you won't tell us his name, anyway?" Sylvia looked at Raphael, frowning. She reached out to him, carefully, and felt the usual mix of anger, mistrust and hostility, but she sensed no ill intent. She decided to take a chance._

_His name is Jeremy, she wrote. He's just a kid. He's been staying with me. We look out for each other. He doesn't know about you._

"_Will we ever see you again?" Michelangelo asked._

_Of course, she wrote. If you want to. She glanced at Donatello, who was reading over her shoulder. He drew back, a flush creeping up his cheeks. _

_***_

"Come in unit Sixty-two."

"Sixty-two here."

"Sixty-two, you are an honored soldier. You will have the privilege of bringing the girl to me."

"S…S…Saki?"

"Yes, Sixty-two. You know your mission?"

"Hai, Master."

"Good. Success will be rewarded, Sixty-two."

Under his mask, number Sixty-two began to sweat. The stakes had just risen. He quickened his pace, seeing the boy disappear once more into the subway tunnel. The boy was the key to finding the girl. This time, the boy would not slip through his grasp. His life depended on it.

***

Leonardo led Sylvia through the tunnels. "If you just climb up this ladder, it will bring you up in the alley three blocks from Central Park," he explained. She nodded. "Are you sure about this, Sylvia? I mean, our friend April can help you get out of the city. Don't you have family? She could help you get home." Sylvia shook her head decisively. All she wanted was to get out, out of these tunnels, out of Leonardo and his brothers' reach, out of this city. Only then would she feel safe.

"Well, here you are." Leonardo climbed up, pushing the manhole cover out of the way, and checking. "It's clear, Sylvia." He climbed down and held out his hand to help her up.

Impulsively, Sylvia threw her arms around him, and kissed him on the cheek. Leonardo froze. She let him go, smiled, and climbed up the ladder. Leonardo stood for a long time after she disappeared through the hole, before he shook his head and turned away.

***

_Sylvia hurried along the path toward the subway. She'd deliberately had Leonardo drop her off a distance away from her tunnel "home". She wasn't sure she wanted the turtles to be able to find her too easily. Even Donatello, who'd been quite nice. She smiled, remembering the way he'd blushed, but shook herself. She couldn't afford to allow herself to trust a man, even a green man wearing a shell who blushed so handsomely, not ever again. Trusting had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She had no intention of making the same mistake twice._

_Suddenly, Sylvia stopped short. Something… something didn't feel right. She swiveled, slowly scanning the crowds moving around her. She couldn't place where the spite was coming from, the hint of… something evil. Sylvia hesitated. She looked around once more, before heading toward the subway. She had to find Jeremy._

_***_

Jeremy had problems of his own. His jacket caught on the subway turnstile as he tried to slip through, and a security guard nabbed him.

"What do you think you're doin, sneakin' in here, ya little punk?" snarled the guard.

"Lemme go, ya big ape!" yelled Jeremy, kicking and struggling. It was no use. The guard had hold of him, and wasn't about to let go.

Number Sixty-two was positioning himself to slip into the guard's room, planning to slit the big man's throat and take the boy, when Sylvia appeared in the subway's entrance tunnel. She caught Jeremy's eye, and shook her head. He stopped struggling and started to cry loudly.

"I want my Ma!" he yelled. Sylvia shook her head, slipping past the guard's station. She knew they'd take Jeremy into the guard's back room, and try to calm him down. They'd probably call the cops and Child Protective Services.

All she had to do was show up before CPS got there, and claim her "son". They'd pulled the routine once before, when Jeremy got caught shoplifting at a local department store. Sylvia made her way carefully through the crowd, drawing no attention to herself as she headed for the far wall. Before she could reach the tracks, someone grabbed her arm, and something sharp pressed into her back. She tried to wriggle away, but the blade pressing into her back jabbed insistently.

"Do not struggle. You are coming with me, Miss Rose," a voice hissed in her ear. Sylvia squirmed, but the hold on her arm was vice-like. She felt the blade dig into her back warningly. Blood trickled down under her shirt, warm and wet. She stopped squirming immediately, suddenly aware of the malice that flowed out of this one. She felt, very clearly, his desire to drive the blade into her and leave her here to bleed out on the platform. The train pulled in, and the crowd dispersed into the cars. The man holding Sylvia had no interest in getting onto a train. He kept her back, apart from the crowd, as the platform emptied. Only Jeremy, looking over his shoulder for any sign of Sylvia, saw the man raise a truncheon and bring it down on the back of her head.

Jeremy sucked in a breath to scream his lungs out as he saw the man scoop Sylvia up, but he blinked, and they were gone. The breath came out in a whoosh, and Jeremy slumped to the platform, slipping out of his coat and leaving it in the guard's hand. He dashed across the platform like a rabbit pursued by a fox.

Fortunately for Jeremy, the station guard had none of the finesse and agility of a fox. He was more like a lumbering bull, huffing and puffing as he waddled after the boy. Jeremy was down onto the tracks, and disappeared into the tunnels, before the guard realized where he'd gone. The guard shook his head, looking down at the ragged jacket still dangling from his fingers. He sighed, and tossed the jacket into a trashcan. Wherever the kid had gone, it wasn't his problem anymore.

***


	14. Chapter 14 Saki

**Sorry, another cliff-hanger, but I'll update again soon. Only three chapters left. Thanks for the reviews! : )**

**Apologies in advance to Mikey for that bite. You can't blame Jeremy, tho. It's not every day a kid gets nabbed by a giant turtle!**

**Just a warning in advance, Sylvia swears near the end, but I think it slides under the "T" rating. And she is, after all, under duress at the time. **

**Happy reading!**

**Rejoicing in the day,  
-Mary  
**

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Chapter 14 -Saki-

"So, Donnie, you wanna go sewer-skatin?" Michelangelo looked morosely at his older brother. Donatello looked up, and lifted the magnifying goggles he was wearing.

"Not now, Mikey. I've got to fix this camera."

"Can I go wit' ya to put it back up again?"

"Sure, Mike, but I've got to get it fixed, first." Donatello turned the unit over, examining the underside of the camera's inner workings. "This is weird."

"What's weird?"

"This camera's been turned off. No wonder it wasn't working. But who could've turned it off?" Donatello flipped the tiny switch, and the camera hummed to life. Donatello clicked on the monitor, and Michelangelo appeared on the screen.

"Hey, that's me!" He waved, sticking out his tongue.

"Well, it's working now," said Donatello. He grabbed his tool bag. "Might as well get it put back up."

"Can I come? I can hold your tools."

"I don't know, Michelangelo. Last time I let you hold my tools you dropped that sprocket…"

"Puh-leeeeeeeze? Come on, Donny. There's nothing to do around here. I'm bored."

"Oh, all right."

***

Jeremy huddled in the corner of the ravaged den, his shoulders shaking with snuffling sobs. Sylvia was gone. Their little home in the tunnels was destroyed. The blankets were slashed, the pipes to Sylvia's carefully built heating system pulled down, crumpled and sliced into scrap. Nothing was left.

***

Number Sixty-two knelt in the presence of his Master, trembling slightly even though he'd successfully completed the mission. He bowed his head reverently, and felt sweat drip down the back of his neck under his mask as Saki stood, watching him from behind the metal mask he wore as the Shredder.

"You found her in the subway?"

"Yes, Master."

"And you returned her here. Is she secure?"

"Yes, Master. She's being held downstairs."

"No one saw you?"

"No, Master." Sixty-two would have been insulted if he'd dared.

"Good. You have done well, number Sixty-two. You may go."

"Hai." Sixty-two got to his feet and gave a short bow before backing from the room. He knew better than to ask about his reward. It would come soon enough, through his superior. Until then, being allowed to leave Saki's presence in one piece was reward enough.

***

_Sylvia was falling… Falling into darkness, tumbling in an endless void of night… Voices called out to her, hands caught at her clothes, but still she fell, on and on, until… She landed quite suddenly on a hard, cold, smooth surface. _

_Her head ached terribly. She heard someone moaning, as if from far away. After a while, she knew she was moaning, which made it possible to stop. The light was too bright against her eyelids._

_Am I back in the hospital? she wondered. What a weird dream… there were giant turtles, and a talking rat. _

_Rough hands caught her arms, lifting her. She turned her face away from the onslaught of rough, angry emotions as she was propped against a solid wall. A rough hand slapped her cheek, once, twice. _

_"Wake up, girl. Wake up. The Shredder requires your presence. Wake up!" The anger and fear behind the words reached Sylvia more clearly than the rough handling or the sharp tone. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes, and her mouth opened in a silent scream._

_A black mask with bug-like eyes was inches from her face. The voice hissed from behind it, weirdly mouth-less words forming. "Come on, girl. Get up."_

_Where am I? Sylvia stifled her instinct to project her confusion and anxiety. The coldness, the fear, the hostility convinced her this person in the horrid mask was not a friend, and would not react empathetically to her fear. She squirmed away from the black-clad assailant as he raised his hand again to strike her face. _

_"Get up!" he snarled, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet. "The Shredder wishes your presence. You do not want to keep him waiting."_

_Sylvia managed to get her feet under her. She jerked away from the man holding her arm, noticing an odd red symbol on his garb. He grabbed her again, and steered her out the door and down a gray hall. She was ushered through a pair of huge wooden doors, but before she had time to take in the magnificence of the room, a man wearing a metal mask and spiked shoulder-gauntlets stood up. _

_"Hello, Sylvia Rose," he said. "I believe you have a gift, an ability which will be useful to my… organization."_

_Sylvia stared at the strange man. The black ninja let go of her arm, and bowed out of the room. Sylvia considered making a dash for the door, but she instinctively knew running would be the worst possible option. She held out her hands to the man, palms up, and shrugged, showing confusion. The man's eyes narrowed under his silver helmet._

_"Let us not play games with one another, Miss Rose." His accent reminded her faintly of Splinter, but the feeling she got from him was entirely other. _

_Where Splinter was calm and wise and steady, this man was chaotic, volatile, and dark. "I am aware of your gift, Miss Rose, and I intend to make use of it." He walked slowly toward her. Sylvia backed up, but her shoulders brushed the wall, and he was too close. She stared into his dark eyes, terror closing her throat, choking her, like the thick, black smoke of the fire._

_"I do hope we can come to… an understanding," he whispered._

_***_

Donatello held the camera in place. "Hand me that screwdriver, will you, Michelangelo? No, not the Philips head. The flat one." Tools clattered, rattling on the concrete, and the screwdriver rolled into a puddle of muck.

"Ooops, sorry, Dude," said Michelangelo.

Donatello gritted his teeth. "Mikey. Please. Find something to wipe that off with." he ground out. Michelangelo wiped the tool on his elbow-pad.

"There ya go, Donny, good as new," he said, handing his brother the screwdriver. Donatello shook his head, and turned his attention to re-mounting the camera.

"There, it's up. Hopefully this time it'll keep working," he said, gathering his tools and packing them carefully back into the bag.

"Dude, you hear that?" Michelangelo whispered, crouching. He yanked his nunchucks from his belt. Donatello glanced at his brother, suspecting one of Michelangelo's famous practical jokes, but Mike wasn't smiling. Donatello set the tool bag down and drew his bo staff. He strained, listening. Sure enough, a soft whimpering could be heard from somewhere further along in the tunnel.

"Geez, what is that?" he asked softly.

Michelangelo shook his head. "I dunno, bro, but it sounds like an animal or sumpthin'. It could be hurt. We gotta check it out." Donatello nodded. Michelangelo slipped through the tunnel, silent as a shadow, his brother at his side.

***

Jeremy sniffled. He sat up. His tears were cried out. There was nothing for it, the safe little home he'd shared with Sylvia was destroyed. Wherever the guy in black came from, he was a nut job. Jeremy knew the little den was no longer safe. He wondered if he'd ever see Sylvia again. He got up and started gathering all the oddments he'd collected, sorting them into piles, the things he wanted to keep, and those that could be left behind.

He was so busy packing his meager belongings, he never heard the two ninjas approaching. They moved closer, silent, unseen. Jeremy wiped his nose on his shirt-sleeve, and silently cursed the loss of his coat. He'd have to steal a new one. It wouldn't be easy to find another perfect jacket, with so many pockets…

"Yaaaaaaah!" he screamed as an arm came around him from behind. He was lifted up, off his feet. A hand clamped over his mouth, cutting off his scream. The fact that the hand felt odd, with not enough fingers, registered in his mind an instant before he got a glimpse of his attacker's skin… it was green. Jeremy's eyes bulged, and he kicked and struggled as if his life depended on it. He managed to get his mouth open, and bit down, hard.

***

_Must… not…Sylvia's mind was beginning to wander, her focus breaking up. She was attempting to barricade her mind, but the relentless assault of noise was breaking her. The light… it was too bright. The room she was in was absolutely smooth and white. The noise came from outside, from all around, crashing off the walls, assaulting her ears. There was no escape. Sylvia lay down on the floor and covered her ears with her hands. Tears streamed down her face. There was no way out… no way out._

_LET ME OUT, she screamed silently. Let me out! Bastards! Let me out of here! You dirty, sneaking rotten bastards! LET ME OUT!_

_The silence was so sudden and complete, it was a full minute before Sylvia registered the change. Slowly, she sat up, taking her hand away from her ear, fearing the noise would start again. Nothing. The room remained silent. A door swung open on the far wall, and the Shredder stood, framed in the gap._

_"I knew a little… persuasion would convince you to reveal your ability," he said smoothly. Sylvia's mind was touched momentarily by a powerful, oily-smooth emotion. She recoiled, trembling. Saki smiled, watching her._

_Oh Donatello, I wish you were here. Sylvia tried to dampen the thought before it escaped, but the Shredder's black eyes widened, and he leaned down, grasping her shirt and lifting her off her feet._

_"The turtles," he hissed._

_Sylvia stared into his eyes, and saw death written there._

_***_


	15. Chapter 15 Jeremy

**Warning, there's some brutality in this chapter. The Shredder, after all, is not known for his gentle-kindness to his prisoners. : ( **

**Things will get better soon, I promise. Only two chapters to go, so the guys have to get busy and save her already!  
**

**And... Sorry Mikey, for the bite, and Raph for the tears. We all know how Raph loves (not) public displays of emotion! Excluding of course, his own emotion of rage. lol  
What can I say, Jeremy got away from me a bit- he was supposed to be a minor character who hardly showed up! He had other ideas.  
**

**Happy reading!  
**

* * *

Chapter 15 -Jeremy -

"The little snot _bit_ me," Michelangelo growled, rubbing his hand. Donatello held Jeremy's arms. Jeremy kicked and squirmed, but he was no longer shouting, thanks to one of Michelangelo's elbow pads, which was stuffed into his mouth and tied neatly behind his head. His hands were bound behind his back with a leather thong from Donatello's belt to keep him from pummeling every inch of turtle he could reach with his sharp, boney little fists.

"Listen, Kid," said Donatello, turning Jeremy so he could see his face. Jeremy scowled at him, glaring, and tried to kick his shins. Donatello swept Jeremy's legs out from under him with his foot, unceremoniously dropping the boy to the ground. Jeremy sat down, hard, and stared up in shock at the angry ninja turtle towering over him.

"Don't make me hurt you," snapped Donatello, losing patience. Jeremy's eyes widened, and he shrank back, drawing his knees up. "Ok, that's better," said Donatello, squatting to talk to the boy. Jeremy, misunderstanding his intention, scrambled backward.

"Relax, Kid. We don't want to hurt you."

"Speak for yourself," grumbled Michelangelo. Jeremy's eyes flicked toward the orange-masked turtle, then back to Donatello.

"I'm gonna take that thing off your mouth, but you've got to promise not to yell again, ok?" Donatello tried a smile. Slowly, the boy nodded. Donatello reached behind his head and loosened the knot. The boy turned his head, and spat.

"That was truly _rank_," he grumbled.

"Bet it tasted better than my fingers," retorted Michelangelo.

"We're sorry, Kid, but you bit my brother. What's your name?" The boy looked at him, but didn't answer. Donatello sighed. "My name's Donatello," he said. "This is Michelangelo. Ok? It's ok, Kid, you can tell us your name. It's not like we're going to turn you over to Child Protective, you know? I mean, being five-foot turtles and all, we're kind of shy of the authorities, too. We just want to know what you're doing here in the sewers."

"Yeah, it's gettin' to be a regular parade with people hangin' out down here," said Michelangelo. "First Sylvia, now this kid."

"What? You know Sylvia? But that guy took her," babbled Jeremy. "An' I couldn't stop him. He just disappeared, like some kinda ghost or somethin'." The boy sniffed.

"Wait a minute? You know Sylvia? Are you Jeremy?" Donatello leaned closer. "What do you mean, someone took her? What happened?" Jeremy shrank back, shivering, his eyes wide.

"He… he just stole her," he stammered. A guy, in black pajamas. Even his mask was black. And there was a red mark on his chest. He hit her on the head, and knocked her out. I saw him. He picked her up, but the next time I looked, they were just… gone."

"The Foot," said Donatello. His expression was suddenly so dangerous, Jeremy scrambled back, away from him.

"Jeremy, you've gotta tell us everything you saw," said Michelangelo. He bent down, and pushed Jeremy forward, reaching to loosen the thong binding his hands. "Sylvia's in trouble, Dude. The Foot are ninjas. They work for the Shredder, an' he's real bad news."

Jeremy's gaze flicked from one to the other. He swallowed hard, rubbing his wrists. "Can you guys get Sylvia back?" he asked.

"We're sure going to try," Donatello replied grimly.

***

_"We'll need to run some tests, Master Shredder, to get an idea of the full range of her capabilities…" The man in the white coat was sweating. Sylvia listened, trying desperately to keep her face impassive, but it was hard to be stoic strapped to an examining table like a frog waiting to be dissected. _

_Half a dozen sensors were attached to her face and head. Leather straps pinned her wrists, ankles, knees and waist to the table. She could turn her head to look at the various monitors beeping and blinking a few feet away. She kept her head turned toward the screens, to avoid looking at the tray of sinister-looking instruments and hypodermics containing several different colored liquids to her left. She was trying desperately not to think about what the man in the white coat might do with the scalpels and other sharp objects on that tray. _

_"Samples should be taken, of course, and we'll run a full DNA profile…" the man was saying._

_"First, I want to test her capabilities," snapped the Shredder. "Test her psi ratings. I'll send you my most psi-sensitive ninjas. They'll be able to sense strong emotion from her. Pain. Fear. Use whatever means you deem necessary, but I do not want her mind damaged, is that clear? Do what you like to her body, but I am holding you," he held a gauntleted fist under the man's chin, the blades a scant millimeter from his pulsing artery, "personally responsible, Doctor, for her ability being undamaged and useful to me when the testing is complete. I suspect that she has knowledge of our enemies, the Turtles. We will need to… extract… that information." _

_The scientist swallowed hard. "Yes, Master. It shouldn't be necessary to damage her too much. The samples can be taken from non-essential organs, the DNA harvested from muscle or bone rather than from the brain…"_

"_As long as we understand one another," said the Shredder, removing his blades from the man's neck. The scientist swallowed hard several times. Sylvia could see the sweat shining on his forehead from across the room. "Yes, Shredder, of course, Master…" the man stuttered. The Shredder turned, and swept out of the room. _

_It was Sylvia's turn to sweat and tremble as the man approached the table. "Shall we begin, my dear?" he asked, with a rather shaky smile._

_***_

"The Foot has Sylvia?" Raphael drew his sais with a growl. "Come on, let's _go_."

"Whoa, Raphael. First, we don't know _where_ she's being held. Second, how do we know we can trust this kid?" Leonardo glanced at Jeremy, who was standing, unbound, and un-gagged, at Donatello's side. Jeremy scowled.

"I told ya, that Foot guy took Syl! How do I know I can trust _you_ guys," he snapped. "You're a buncha ninjas, too. How do I know you're not workin' wit' dat other guy?"

Raphael growled low in his throat. "_Us_, workin' wit' dos filthy Foot? You got to get yer head checked, Kid."

Jeremy quailed under Raphael's glare. "Well, dis guy said you could get Sylvia back," he said, staring Raphael straight in the eye. He trembled slightly, but didn't back down.

"Hey, we're on the same side here," said Donatello. "Jeremy described a Foot soldier down to the mark. I think he's telling the truth."

"What if it's a trap? I knew we shouldn'ta let that girl go," grumbled Raphael. Jeremy's eyes widened. He took a step back from the turtles.

"You were keepin' Sylvia prisoner?"

"Nah, Kid, she busted into our Lair. She was stealin' tools and stuff. We caught her, but our 'Fearless Leader' here let her go," said Raphael.

"It was the right thing to do, Raphael. We couldn't keep her prisoner. And she gave us her word she'd keep our secret," said Leonardo.

"Yeah, and look were it got us," snapped Raphael. "Now Shredder's got 'er. He's probably torturing her right now, tryin' to get her to tell him where da Lair is!"

"He's hurtin' Syl?" Jeremy's fists came up. "I'm gonna kill 'em."

"You wouldn't stand much of a chance against the Shredder, Jeremy," said Leonardo kindly. "He's beaten all four of us in a fight before. It was only because our Sensei, Splinter, intervened, that we survived that battle."

"Well, if you four can't beat this guy, how're we gonna get Sylvia back?" Jeremy's hazel eyes filled with tears.

"Don't worry, Kid, we'll get 'er out." Raphael knelt down. "I promise ya." Jeremy looked suspiciously at the turtle. Raphael met his eyes steadily. Suddenly Jeremy shocked them all by throwing himself at Raphael and wrapping his arms around his neck.

"Ya gotta get her back. Ya just gotta. Ya can't let some jerk hurt Sylvia. She's all I got!" The boy sobbed into Raphael's shoulder. Raph looked helplessly at the others.

Leonardo patted Jeremy on the back. "Don't worry, Jeremy, we'll get her back," he said.

"Yeah," said Michelangelo. "Sylvia's our bud, too, Jeremy. We'll get her away from ol' Shred-Head."

"Will somebody _puh-leeze_ get this kid offa me?" grumbled Raphael. Donatello hid a smile.

***

_Sylvia's silent scream tore at her throat. The chemical the scientist injected into her arm was coursing through her veins, burning, and making the room fog and tilt. The scientist watched her impassively, making notes on his clipboard. Three black-clad ninjas stood, unmoving, near the table. _

"_She is in pain," said one, tonelessly. The scientist nodded, scribbling on his clipboard._

"_Sometimes the serum has that effect," he muttered. "What else? Are you getting any images of the turtles?"_

"_No."_

"_You could make this easier on yourself, you know," he said, walking over and looking down into Sylvia's eyes. She blinked, tears leaking down the sides of her face and pooling in her ears. "You could project the images the Master wants, images of the Turtles. All you have to do is think about them…" Sylvia closed her eyes, closed her mind against his voice. She would fight as long and hard as she could, to deny this man what he wanted._

***


	16. Chapter 16 The Fortress

**Next to the last chapter... and another cliff-hanger. Sorry about that. lol  
Ok, no, not really. ; )**

**Writing Raph in his role of ... persuader, was interesting. Who knew Don had such a dark side?**

**Once again, warning for language, but still at the T rating.**

**Happy reading! Please do review! Comments/criticism is welcome. Btw, if you're reading this and it was posted ages ago, it's still fine to review. : ) **

* * *

Chapter 16 -The Fortress-

"You're not goin' without me!" Jeremy stood square, glaring at Leonardo. Leonardo couldn't help but think how much like Raphael the boy sounded.

"It's dangerous, Jeremy. The Foot are trained ninjas. They won't hesitate to kill you."

"I don't care. I'm goin' to help Sylvia."

"You can help Sylvia best by staying here, and staying out of our way!"

"You can't tell me what to do!"

Leonardo sighed. "Don."

Jeremy gasped as Donatello's arms came around his chest, pinning his arms to his side. He was lifted off his feet.

"Hey!" Jeremy yelled, trying to kick, but Donatello wasn't letting him go.

"We can't leave him here. The Foot who took Sylvia might come back," said Leonardo calmly.

"Lemme go! Lemme go!" yelled Jeremy.

"Shut up, Jeremy, or I'll have to gag you again," said Donatello. Jeremy shut up, remembering the foul taste of the elbow pad.

"Why don't we park him with Casey at April's?" asked Michelangelo.

"Sure. Casey's a great baby-sitter." Raphael smiled.

Jeremy swallowed hard. He didn't like the smirk on Raphael's face. "Who's Casey?" he asked, striving to keep the tremble out of his voice. "Another turtle?"

Raphael laughed. "He wishes," he said.

***

_Bastards, bastards, bastards,_ _Sylvia kept chanting her newest mantra, keeping time with the throb of her pulse. The doctor was poking, prodding. He hadn't reached for the scalpels yet, but she knew it was merely a matter of time. I'm going to die here, Sylvia thought, despairing. They'll cut me into tiny pieces, and then I'll die. All was pain, a burning, red. The fire surrounded her, smothering her, stealing the oxygen from the room. A needle pierced her thigh, and in the eerie quiet beeping of the monitors, she opened her mouth in a silent scream._

_***_

"You think she's being held in the main building?" asked Raphael. "So let's get in there."

"And walk right into the Shredder's hands?" snapped Leonardo. "Don's not sure the schematics he uncovered are accurate. You don't think Saki registered his actual floor-plan with the city, do you?"

"Well, what's the plan, den, 'Fearless'?"

"We have to come at this logically," replied Leonardo. "Don, do you think the floor plan you have is accurate?"

"It's as good a map as we've got," replied Donatello. "Look, this area here, it's labeled as "offices", but the electric wiring is rated for much a much higher load than the rest of the building. These rooms have got to be laboratories or something… something which draws more power. I say we concentrate on those rooms."

"What if she's not there?" growled Raphael.

"What we need is inside information," said Leonardo. "I've got a plan. Wait here, guys."

"Wait, what?" Raphael started to rise from his perch on the edge of the building across from Saki's headquarters.

"I've got to go alone, Raph. I'll be right back," said Leonardo. Raphael scowled, but subsided. Leonardo disappeared down the fire escape.

***

_Burning… everything was burning… The fire, it was consuming her, burning her breath from her body. Donatello's face swam through her mind, his dark eyes smiling into hers… Sylvia pushed the image away… She couldn't remember why, but she knew she must not allow the turtles to enter her thoughts. She must not think of them, must not think of Jeremy…_

"_The boy. Master Shredder is impatient, Doctor. We must break her soon… If she won't give them up to save herself, she might give them up to save the boy." A familiar voice, the man who'd grabbed her at the subway station. _

"_All right, Sixty-two. Fetch the boy. We'll see what we can do. I'm sure she can be… persuaded. There's always a way, if the right lever can found and properly applied."_

_***_

Leonardo dropped to the ground, using the shadows to conceal his movement down the alley. He crouched, blending into the darker space beside the building as a Foot soldier came out of a doorway and slipped down the alley. Leonardo smiled. This would be easier than he'd expected.

Sixty-two didn't hear so much as a rustle. The katana handle _thumped_ into the back of his head, plunging him into instant darkness.

***

_Pain… swirling, dark, red-hot burning… _

_Sylvia was drifting, floating like an ember spinning in an updraft. She was vaguely aware of the man in the white coat approaching, lifting her eyelids. The light pierced her, sharp and white and painful. Vaguely she heard the clink of metal against the tray. _

"_Get the Petri dishes ready. We'll take the tissue samples while we wait," she heard his voice as if he were speaking through a distant tunnel. _

_***_

"Wakey, wakey." Raphael slapped the man in black roughly. His mask was off. His face was framed by mouse-brown hair curling down around his ears. Raphael slapped him again. Number Sixty-two sat up suddenly as if he'd been touched with a cattle-prod. He stared at the four green faces circling him, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping.

The first thing he was aware of was that his hands were bound quite tightly behind his back. The second was a razor-sharp sai point pressed to his throat. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"I'll tell you nothing," he snarled. The sai point pressed against his chin. The ninja's eyes widened, but he returned Raphael's glare determinedly.

"Now, let's not be too hasty," said the turtle in the purple mask. He knelt down, resting the tip of his bo staff on the roof by his foot. "My brother here, he's not in a very good mood." The man's eyes flicked from the purple-masked one's dark eyes to the eerie golden gaze of the one in red. The sai pressed more firmly against his throat.

The man just kept himself from swallowing, keeping his expression stoic. The amber-golden eyes of the red-masked turtle seemed to stare into his soul, and he had the feeling the turtle didn't like what he saw there.

"I really don't think you want us to let Raphael do what he wants with you. We try to keep him… civilized," explained Donatello calmly. "But sometimes… well, you know, sometimes we have to let him… indulge is darker urges a little. Just a little. Enough to keep him… satisfied."

The man did swallow then. The amber eyes glaring into his narrowed, and the turtle allowed himself the smallest smile. The one in orange shifted, uncomfortable. The blue-masked turtle watched the proceedings standing with his arms crossed across his plastron, unmoving, as if he were carved from stone.

"All we want is to know where the girl is being held." The turtle in purple spoke softly, reasonably. "Just tell us what we want to know, and we'll convince my brother here to let you go with all your parts attached." The ninja saw the red-masked turtle's eyes flicker to a lower part of his anatomy, and he felt his blood turn to ice.

Training and discipline could only take him so far. There were some things no man could face. He licked his dry lips. His eyes flicked from the amber depths to the dark eyes surrounded by the purple mask.

"I think you'd better tell us where they're holding the girl." said the purple-clad turtle softly. "He's getting impatient."

Number Sixty-two felt the point of the sai tremble against his skin, as if the hand holding it were… unstable. "Third floor," he whispered hoarsely. "Second door on the left from the elevator. It's a lab. But you'll never get past the guar…" He never finished speaking. The blunt handle of Raphael's sai met the side of his head resulting in instant unconsciousness.

"T'anks." said the red-masked turtle, standing up. "Let's go."

The four ninjas moved silently through the night, advancing upon the fortress. Donatello made quick work of the alarm system, and Michelangelo slipped through the front door, spying out the room before waving the others in. The lobby was dark and deserted.

"How're we gonna get to the t'ird floor, anyhow?" growled Raphael.

"Well, the guy said it's the second door on the left, from the elevator. So let's take the lift," said Leonardo, a glint in his eye.

"Sounds good ta me," said Raphael, smiling. "Let's go."

***


	17. Chapter 17 The Final Word

**Well, here we are, the very end. **

**This has been fun to write. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have.  
Please do review, I need feedback to improve as a writer. Not to mention, like all authors, I love hearing from my readers. : )**

**Thanks so much to Clementine-Rose, my first-ever reviewer, for her kind encouragement, to S.E. Ragland for her reviews (Love your stories, Stephanie! Update AMNT/TMNT soon!), and to Silverfalcon, MS, Westhaven18, and Sabra Jaguar for taking the time to read and review.**

**Finally, a special thank-you goes out to Raphfreak, for sleepless nights, for addictions, for beta-reading and just for being a great writer.  
**

**I'd recommend Raphfreak's stories, folks, but I'd feel too much like a drug-dealer. She writes literary crack, and once you start reading, she'll torment you with cliffhangers and not update nearly fast enough unless you threaten to send Raphael after her. Even then, she'll just take to the sewers and dodge the guys, cackling evilly while you sob in desperation over her latest scheme... er, plot.  
You've been warned!**

**Happy reading!  
Rejoicing in the day,  
-Mary**

**Ps Look for my next story, Paradise, coming soon.  
**

* * *

Chapter 17 -The Final Word-

_Drifting… Shouting, a crash… but far away, so far away… Fear, anger… rage… The emotions rolled over her, touching her consciousness, sliding over her psyche. She heard a guttural cry, it sounded like the scientist. _

_Fury… burning… fire…_

_Hands were grabbing her arms. She moaned. The splint had been removed from her arm, and movement sent pain stabbing through the unstable bones. Hands on her arms, touching her wrists, tugging at her ankles and knees… _

_The straps were already tight, why were they fussing with them? She couldn't get loose, she'd tried. She'd fought the straps with all her might until the leather was slippery with blood and sweat. _

_She felt tugging, and miraculously, the straps fell away. Her hands were free! Sylvia struggled instinctively to sit up. Arms came around her, encircling, enclosing. She tried to squirm away, but her ankles were still attached to the table._

"_It's ok, Syl, we've got you now," A familiar, friendly voice, soothing, comforting. "Let's get her outta here." Movement, something brushing her ankle, and her feet were freed as well.  
_

_Shouts, crashes. Clang of metal, thud of wood… She was being lifted up, cradled against a strange, smooth, hard chest. She let her head flop onto the muscular shoulder, too weak and hazy to hold it up._

_A surge of emotions… anger, grief, and something else… protective… warmth. It was too much for her to sort out. She felt herself carried, away from the noise, away from the chaos. The noise was further away now._

"_Come on, I've got her."_

"_Fall back! Come _on_, Raph! There're too many of them. We've got to get out of here…"_

_***_

Jeremy glared at the huge man holding the hockey stick. Casey was pacing, glancing out the window every third step. His knuckles were white on the handle of the stick in his hand.

"I'm goin'."

"_No_, Casey. The guys said to wait here," said the red-haired woman for the tenth time in as many minutes. "They can handle this."

"What if ol' tin-grin shows up?" growled Casey. "What if they need back-up?"

"What, yer gonna take him down wit' a hockey stick?" Jeremy shook his head. "If dis dude can take down the turtles, I don't t'ink yer gonna handle him."

"Aah, whadda you know, Kid? I take on street punks wit' more moxy than that tin-plated freak." Jeremy caught April rolling her eyes, and giggled.

Casey stopped pacing and stood squarely, holding the hockey stick in front of him as if he were a goalie facing a penalty shot. "Oh yeah? Ya t'ink dis is funny, do ya? Dat's it, I'm goin'!" He strode toward the door, but before he could reach the knob, there was a sharp tap on the window. April rushed over, and swung it open.

"Guys! Are you ok? Did you get her? Is anyone hurt?"

Jeremy jumped up as an oddly shaped figure filled the window. Donatello climbed in, carefully cradling the limp form in his arms. Leonardo followed him into the room, then Raphael and Michelangelo.

"Sylvia!" shouted Jeremy. "What'd they do ta her?"

"It's ok, Jeremy, I think she's been drugged, but she's going to be ok," said Donatello. He laid Sylvia gently on the couch. He took her wrist in his hands, feeling for a pulse. He made a face over the raw wounds, and reached for her neck instead.

"It's ok. She's going to be ok," he repeated. "Her pulse is strong. I think they gave her some kind of drug, but it should wear off. She hadn't been there that long. They didn't have time to do much damage." As he spoke, Donatello's hands were moving, searching for wounds and broken bones. He felt Sylvia's arm, and frowned.

"They took the splint off. I'll have to re-set this. April, do you have any first-aid supplies?"

"Sure, Don, I'll get them," said April.

"Bring the painkillers I keep here for us, too, April," called Donatello.

"Who got hurt? What'd ya do, Raph, let one of dem Foot freaks get da drop on ya? I knew I shoulda came wit' ya guys," said Casey.

"It's for Leonardo, Casey," said Donatello, not looking up.

"Oh geez, Leo," said Casey. He caught the swaying blue-masked turtle's arm. Leonardo winced. "Hey, man, sit down before ya fall down, huh?" He led Leonardo to a chair and lowered him into it with surprising gentleness. "What'd they do to ya?"

"Ol' 'Fearless' has to play da hero," said Raphael, with a hint of pride behind the sarcasm. "Here he was, callin' the retreat, when about six more Foot showed up. Mike and I had 'em handled, but Leo couldn't stay outta da way."

"Mikey… the… guy… in… white… had… a… needle," Leonardo whispered between shallow breaths. "Was… going… to… stick… Mike…"

"Ok, ok, 'Fearless', we know. Ya saved Mikey from that crazy scientist guy and his hypo. It's cool bro. Just relax." Raphael leaned back against the wall, tucking his sais into his belt.

"Raph, you're bleedin' on April's paint," said Michelangelo in a rather shaky voice.

"Oh, am I? Sorry 'bout dat, April." Raphael stood up, glancing at the wound on his shoulder. "I guess I'm still leakin' a little."

"I'll stitch that up in a minute," said Donatello. "Let me get Sylvia's arm set, and give Leo something for his ribs."

"Take yer time, Donny. I'm ok."

"He almost stuck that needle in me, Dude," said Michelangelo. Suddenly he went rather grey, and dashed for the bathroom. The others could unfortunately hear his retching clearly through the open door.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Jeremy, tearing his eyes away from Sylvia's face to spare a glance toward the bathroom.

"Mikey's got a phobia of needles," explained Donatello. "Comes from having people want to put us on a dissection table and take samples and stuff."

"Hey, I t'ink she's comin' around," said Casey, leaning over the back of the couch.

"Well give her some room," said Donatello. "You'll scare her to death if the first thing she sees is you, Casey Jones." Casey leaned back, shooting Donatello a dirty look.

Donatello ignored him. He took Sylvia's uninjured hand in both of his.

***

_Voices… strange voices, not shouting now… Was this the hospital? Sylvia wasn't sure whether she were dreaming or drifting. Something holding her hand, but warm and soft, not hard and cutting like the straps… Warm, friendly feelings… but no, she must not think, must not feel…_

"_Sylvia?" Someone, far away, was calling her name. "Sylvia, wake up. You're safe now." _

_Must not think…_

_She became aware of a new presence, pressing on her mind, reaching toward her, soft, gentle, warm. She tried to resist, tried to close herself off, not to feel, not to think. She forgot to breathe._

_Sylvia. You're safe now. It's ok. It's me, Don._

_D… Donatello? But… the Shredder…_

_You're safe now. You're with me… with us. It's ok. We got you out. He can't hurt you now._

_Tentatively, Sylvia reached out. She felt exhaustion, fear, anxiety. She felt the remnants of anger, of hate… she felt… security. Safety. Trust. She gathered her focus, feeling the hands touching hers. Warmth. Friendship. And… something more?_

_Slowly, Sylvia opened her eyes. Her lips moved._

_Donatello._

_***_

Two months later…

"Are you sure you have your tickets?" Leonardo asked for the third time.

"We got 'em, Leo. Geesh, relax. I'm a street kid, remember? I know how to get on the train, for cryin' out loud."

"You'll do great, Sylvia. The University has an amazing science program," said Donatello. Sylvia smiled, and nodded. "Well, you two had better get to the station. The train will be leaving in twenty minutes." Donatello shifted his weight, not quite meeting Sylvia's eyes. "I know your folks will be glad to see you. They sounded excited on the phone."

"I just hope they like me," said Jeremy, suddenly sounding very young and very uncertain. Sylvia wrapped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze.

"Of course they'll like you, Jeremy," said Leonardo. "April explained everything to them. They're grateful to you for looking out for Sylvia when she needed a friend. You'll like living on a farm. Trust me."

Sylvia pulled a note-pad sized device out of her pocket. She wrote on the screen with a stylus, and the automated voice spoke.

"They always wanted a boy. I always wanted a brother. They'll love you."

Jeremy smiled. "Aww, Syl, yer da best."

Sylvia grinned, and wrote. "Don's the best," the voice said. Sylvia waved the device. "I can talk now."

Donatello shook his head. "It's just a touch-screen and text recognition software. No big deal," he muttered.

"Big deal, Don. You gave me back my voice," Sylvia wrote.

"You've got a train to catch," he said.

Sylvia grinned. She threw her arms around Donatello's neck, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Jeremy laughed. "What was dat for, Syl?"

"Some things you can't say with words," intoned the robotic voice.

Donatello met Sylvia's eyes. She gathered her focus, and smiled. Donatello turned the deepest shade of red possible for a green-skinned turtle to turn. Leonardo's eye-ridges rose.

"Not a word, Leo. Don't you say a word," muttered Donatello as they watched Sylvia and Jeremy climb the ladder and disappear through the manhole a block from the train station. "Or I swear, I'll invent some obscure virus and put you in Raph-enforced bed-rest for a month."

Leonardo laughed, and clapped his arm over his brother's shoulder. "I didn't say a thing, bro. I didn't say a thing."

*end*


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